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The boy’s football team runs their laps, sweaty and gross. The sun is blazing as Nat hides under the bleachers with her guy friends. They pass around a terribly rolled joint which the guys haven’t stopped ribbing Nat about. Kevin points at the quarterback, “Bet he can’t go the whole practice without stripping.”
Nat puts a ten into the middle and they do the same.
“Didn’t know you were an avid football fan,” comes a sweet voice, teasingly from behind them. Nat turns around to Lottie Matthews of all fucking people.
Nat hides the joint instinctively and sits up straighter. “Who doesn’t love watching half naked guys?” Nat replies. The other two snicker and say something like no homo. Lottie blushes a bit.
Why is Lottie here anyway? Sure, they’re on the same team but Lottie has her circle and Nat has… well… she used to have Van until Tai showed up. Nat usually sticks with the burnouts and keeps her head down these days.
“Need something, Princess?” Nat asks, sarcasm dripping.
“I have a request.” And she holds her hand out, like, she’s going to help Nat to her feet. Nat stares at the hand confused for a moment, cause really, this never fucking happens. Nat takes the hand and brushes grass off herself, and she tries to look smooth or put together.
“See you losers later, I’m rolling with royalty now.” Nat says to the guys who both give her the middle finger in goodbye.
Nat follows Lottie off the field and into the girl’s changeroom. She rolls her eyes. Great. It’s a secret thing. Nat tries not to let this fact hurt her too much. Why would Lottie Matthews want to be seen with Nat Scatorccio of all people? She has an entourage of rich kids and admirers from what Nat sees. Hasn’t really bothered to speak to her since their last party.
“Tell me you have no plans tonight,” Lottie says, sweet and hopeful. Nat’s heart skips a beat. Waits a moment to not seem desperate.
“You asking me on a date? Didn’t know you swung that way,” Nat jokes, smirking.
Lottie’s eyes twinkle a moment and then she smiles, honest to God, gets on one knee and holds Nat’s hand, “Nat will you be my escort?” Nat swears she’s blushing now and when Lottie stands up, she longs for the moment already.
“Thought you had boys lined up for you. Or literally anyone else.” Nat says, suspicious.
“I need you, and you alone,” Nat waits for the catch, holds her breath, “I want to get back at my dad.”
There it is. Nat tries not to let this shatter her heart or ego to pieces. Figures. She knows Nat’s reputation, hell, the whole school knows. She’s not exactly the most well spoken, or perfect individual, not like Tai and the other girls trying to get into Ivy league schools. But she is loud, crass and a disturber. Her reputation precedes her.
So, she’s collateral, nothing more than an annoying accessory. She’s the boy you bring home to piss off your parents. She’s an instigator, a rogue, a no-good poor troubled girl.
She should be furious at Lottie. Instead, she plays along. If they think she’s bad, she will be the best bad boy possible.
“How are you gonna repay this one, Matthews? I’m out ten bucks now. Probably nailed that bet too.”
“How chivalrous of you,” Lottie says wryly, “are you expecting money, booze or cigarettes?”
“Ouch.” That’s all you think of me, is what she thinks. She’s not sensitive though. Prides herself on thick skin. People usually can’t handle the truth. Usually.
“Nat Scatorccio has nothing to say. Wow. Maybe I should bring Shauna to piss off my dad,” Lottie teases.
Jealousy pangs through Nat, hot and ugly in her stomach.
“Please. I was made to disappoint parents.”
Lottie leans over and places a kiss on her cheek, all chaste and innocent. Nat wills herself not to go red. Lottie turns to leave but Nat grabs her wrist, “I’m gonna need more than that cheap shit as repayment, Princess.”
Lottie doesn’t miss a beat, smirking, “What a gentleman.”
Lottie Matthews fucking driver picks them up after school. They both sit in the back, the empty seat between them impossibly loud. Nat swallows her nerves. Since when is she ever nervous around the weird rich girl? Her teammate she sees in her underwear every practice. The girl who gets too drunk at parties and starts babbling to her about nonsensical shit, getting too close and flirty, and then pretending she doesn’t know her the next day.
“What are you wearing?” Lottie breaks the silence. Nat only smirks and raises her eyebrows at the girl, to which Lottie rolls her eyes, “not like that, loser.”
Shit. Everything Nat owns is filth and garbage. Dingy, dirty, and disgusting like her. The nicest dress she owns is a baptism dress she wore when she was five.
“What is this a red-carpet event?” She jokes. Lottie gives her a soft look, at once understanding and egregiously pitiable. Nat clenches her teeth.
“Pick something out, anything you like,” Lottie offers.
“Lottie—” I don’t want your pity. She is cut off by Lottie placing a hand on her knee.
“I don’t care but my parents are assholes about dress code.”
Dress code. Formality. Dresses tight against curves, necklaces ropes around throats. Itchy, hot, and feminine. She shifts uncomfortably.
“Too late to bail? Come on, lets go to a real party.”
“Its for my sixteenth… can’t exactly bail unless I want to be disowned,” Nat aches at the despondent look on the girl’s face.
“You never told me its your birthday,” Nat says softly.
“You never asked,” Lottie replies, simply, “look, if you really don’t want to—”
A brilliant idea strikes Nat, “Shut up and drive to the mall already.”
Half an hour later they’re entering the men’s suit store. The atmosphere is a bit oppressive and stale for Nat’s taste. But it suits the bourgeoisie just fine apparently. The salesmen give the pair a strange look, especially Nat.
It’s supposed to be a joke. Nat will show up to Lottie’s birthday in men’s clothing. A funny joke to mess with her dad and fuck with the rich. But the more the two ventures through the shop it becomes less of a joke and more…
Lottie holds a blue dress shirt up to Nat’s neck, eyes travelling up and down her figure.
Not like Nat could ever look good in one of these anyway. It was stupid to come in here. She’s small in stature and demure. A suit commands respect and prestige. None of these things are Scatorccio like.
Lottie holds up different dress shirts to Nat, assessing and examining the fabrics against her skin and hair colour. Occasionally a smile lifts her lips.
“You know I was joking, right?” Nat assures, growing hot and prickly in the store. Restless and a bit uncomfortable.
“You’ll look amazing, joke or not,” Lottie assures. Nat hates that she knows what she’s thinking. Knows what she’s insecure about.
“You don’t get it.” She sighs, but lets Lottie dress her.
“Then elaborate?” Lottie invites. How is Nat supposed to say that she wants to wear a man’s suit. Has to say it’s a joke to cover for herself. That maybe she kind of has a soft spot for Lottie Matthews ever since their last party. That she wants Lottie to take her on her arm to dances, and events and see her like a boy. Cause it sounds crazy to her ears.
Lottie assesses Nat with her eyes, roaming up and down her body. Erotic if not nerve wracking and revealing.
“Can’t believe I’m letting you dress me,” Nat teases at last, more relaxed. It’s just a joke. Her feelings toward Lottie are just that too, not to be taken seriously. After this event, Lottie will go back to her circle and leave her again until the next party.
“You’re going to be so hot.” Nat tries not to turn red.
Nat follows her around the store like a lost puppy, ultimately relieved she doesn’t have to pick anything out. Lottie finds a color palette she’s satisfied with and picks out the suit, tie and shoes.
Finally, the try on time arrives. Lottie piles the items in Nat’s arms, gives her a small push against the small of her back into the dressing room. Slightly dazed and more than a little turned on, she strips to put the clothes on.
She has trouble with the tie but gives up. When she looks in the mirror, she doesn’t recognize herself. Her jaw actually drops doing a full body turn. She feels herself stand at least two feet taller. She looks—fucking good. The suit disguises her curves and accentuates a boyish figure. She chokes up sitting down, obsessed with what she sees. Wishes she could see that all the time.
“Nat? Nat? Do you hate it? We can just get you a dress, sorry if I’ve been pushy or—” Nat can’t answer over the lump in her throat. She drinks herself in, eyes transfixed. Why can’t she look like this all the time?
“I’m coming in,” Lottie warns before appearing behind the curtain. She lets out a small gasp, her mouth opening too. The two share a moment not saying anything. Lottie turns Nat around, getting a good long look.
“You clean up well, Scatorccio,” she murmurs, voice like honey. She adjusts Nat’s lapels, pulling her close. Nat looks up and it takes everything in her not to close the distance. Nat grows dizzy at their closeness, at Lottie’s gorgeous, perfumed hands against her body, gazing at her like they’re the only two people in the world. She can’t suppress a goofy smile, and she swears Lottie bites her lip.
“I’ll try take that as a compliment,” she flirts, against her better judgement. Lottie seems to be at a loss for words for once, but quickly recovers. She runs her fingers along the fabric of the tie and quickly assembles a professional knot. She does some more adjustments and runs her hands around Nat’s neck and down her chest. Nat’s breath catches and she prays her face doesn’t show it.
Lottie’s spell is broken, and she retracts her hands back. “Just have to make sure your tie isn’t too tight.”
Lottie doesn’t sound entirely convinced herself about this, but Nat turns her attention back to the mirror. She has to hand it to Lottie; she does know her stuff.
“How do you know your way around a tie?” Nat asks.
“Van,” Lottie says simply, and Nat feels adoration and joy bubble inside her.
They leave the store and Nat wears out the clothes, receiving smiles and people checking her out. Notably way more girls. Nat has an idea then, and interlocks her and Lottie’s hands together as they walk. Lottie glances at their hands and smiles bashfully, “What’s this now, Scatorccio? Going soft?”
“Your dad would flip out if we were an item. I’m practicing so we look natural,” she replies. Lottie gazes down at her, eyes twinkling, and Nat’s heart aches. Lottie smirks and brings Nat’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“You’re a genius. He’ll flip out so hard.” She beams and they walk holding hands all the way to the car.
Nat tries not to let the latter half of Lottie’s sentence get to her so much. Tries not to feel a little silly and ashamed that Lottie would ever find her attractive. She’s not a boy. Lottie Matthews likes boys. Nat likes boys. Van would be the first to tell Nat if anyone on the team was like them. Like Van that is, cause Nat likes guys mostly. Mostly? Okay, Lottie Matthews has to be an exception to the attraction rule. So, Nat likes guys and Lottie Matthews. Fuck.
They arrive at the Matthews residence and Mrs. Matthews answers the door ushering them inside the living room. Nat can tell Mrs. Matthews has spent years making herself appear smaller, politer, edges dulled down. Recognizes the quality from her own mother. Nat hopes Lottie won’t do the same.
Mr. Matthews appears then, handsome, and clean cut. If Lottie 5’10 Matthews is tall, Mr. Matthews is a tower of a man and just as imposing and inscrutable. Nat recognizes him in Lottie.
The Matthews offer their hands to Nat, as is proper etiquette. “Who is this fine, young fella’, Charlotte?” Mr. Matthews asks, and firmly shakes Nat’s hand. Nat ignores the silent challenge of the longer than necessary eye contact. Nat shivers at the use of Lottie’s full name.
“Natalie Scatorccio.” Lottie introduces, smiling broadly. Nat finishes shaking their hands and watches as surprise washes over their features.
Mr. Matthews clears his throat, “Forgive me, Natalie.” He gives a sort of menacing look to Lottie and immediately moves on, a plastic smile on his face.
“Charlotte told me she was bringing a guest. We had thought she would bring a date.” He gestures for them to sit down, and Nat and Lottie sit side by side. He looks between the two of them a bit perplexed for a moment. Finally, he snaps his fingers, and an actual fucking maid appears with a tray of whiskey and four glasses.
“Nevertheless, I’m relieved she is not pursuing suitable bachelors. We would rather she get into Stanford, first. She is rather bright.” He tells Nat, as the maid fixes them all a drink. She hands the glass to each of them, save for the wife. Nat wonders why.
He stands and beckons for Lottie to come closer. She does so and presses into his side, hesitantly. He kisses the top of her head. “My little charlotte. What a woman you have become,” He almost looks teary-eyed, voice strained. Nat wonders what could be so bad about him. She almost feels bad showing up like a lesbo.
“May I have a glass too, dear?” Mrs. Matthews speaks up. He seems to consider this, staring hard at her a moment. He flicks his wrist carelessly at the maid.
“Special occasion. Pour the old lady something too, why not.” Lottie retracts herself away, disgusted at his arrogant display. She hugs her mom and kisses her cheek before going to sit by Nat again.
Loyal Lottie Matthews. Nat’s heart wants to burst out of her chest in adoration, to hold her tight and never let go.
Nat follows the lead of her father, raising the whiskey glass.
“To Charlotte,” they all praise.
The hour passes by with more forced conversation between Mr. Matthews and Nat, mostly him talking at her. Mrs. Matthews says nothing and only plasters on a smile. Lottie looks like she wants to be anywhere else.
Finally, they arrive at the banquet hall, like an actual banquet hall. Nat drinks in the sights of champagne on tables, and servers running back and forth, girls on arms of wealthy men. The dinner is beautiful, extravagant even. Over the top and a waste of money too but sure, pretty, nonetheless.
“What in the pride and prejudice shit is this?” Nat whispers to Lottie who gives her a funny look, no, a surprised look. Nat pushes her, lightly.
“I read, you bitch.”
Lottie laughs and then quickly amends, “I know. I’m not trying to be condescending.”
Nat rolls her eyes, “relax, Matthews.”
They find their seats. “Charlotte, you should invite Greg to come sit next to you. I’m sure your friend won’t mind,” Mr. Matthews says, beginning his side of the war. Nat narrows her eyes slightly.
“I actually don’t come very often to these events, being from the wrong side of the tracks and all,” Nat provides, refusing to look away.
Mr. Matthews gives a tight smile, “Very well. I am philanthropic after all. You do know what that means?” He patronizes.
“Father.” Lottie warns, placing a hand over Nat’s.
Nat takes a moment to tip her glass of merlot back and drinks down the liquid, staring at Mr. Matthews.
“Mr. Matthews, I am taken with your daughter,” she admits after putting the glass down.
“I am in fact, quite liberal, Miss Scatorccio,” A gleam in his eye, “you’ll have to try harder than that.”
Nat glowers a moment before Lottie puts a hand on her thigh under the table. She lightens up and sits straight.
“I intended to propose tonight. But I need the blessing, isn’t that just archaic?” Nat tries again, loud enough to draw attention to their table.
He goes bright red then and brings a cloth to his face. “Have some decorum, girls! The both of you.” He snaps, harshly. Lottie hides a grin and Nat lets out a small laugh, relenting as he gets up to cool off. Lottie squeezes Nat’s wrist lightly in what she assumes is satisfaction.
Its all worth it to waste Mr. Matthews money and see his smug face, red with anger. Priceless to see Lottie stifling laughter and enjoying herself.
The night wears on. and suddenly its time for Lottie to open a gift. Her father hands her a small black box. Lottie opens it and pulls out a beautiful ornate ring. Nat is at a loss for words again. Lottie looks at once grateful and apprehensive.
“For your betrothal, one day. The one in the eyes of God and the law,” He drawls giving a wicked glance in Nat’s direction. Her breath shallows, her suit too hot in the stifling atmosphere, “we hope it will be out of love, but there are more lucrative options as well. Opportunity, wealth, generational fortune, my dear. Each more eternal than love.” Each word is crueller than the last and is aimed intentionally at Nat.
Lottie is transfixed at the ring and doesn’t hear the words. She nods once and puts the ring back on the table. But Nat is already gone.
The bathroom is a perfect place to have a breakdown. Nat enters and tries to stop the lump from further choking her, to no avail. She has to release the horrible feeling somehow. She goes to the stall and takes out her lighter, her only heirloom stolen from her dad. She heats it up, eyes burning with tears. A few fall against her will.
Finally, once she thinks its hot enough, she is interrupted by a voice gentle and coaxing, “Nat? Nat, I—I don’t know what to say.”
Nat curses and puts the lighter away, scrubbing the tears off her face. She takes a moment to collect herself and leaves the stall.
She is met with a warm embrace, and she tries to remain strong. “You know, I’d actually have to fucking respect him to be hurt by his words.” Nat offers and tries for a small laugh that only sounds pathetic to her ears.
“Lottie, I’m fine, really—”
“It was a horrible fucking thing to say, Nat. I hate him!”
“He’s right,” Nat says and pulls away, “I wouldn’t have to think twice about this. If it were me—”
“Natalie, he is not right. You’re a loyal friend and—”
“Friend, right…” Nat says, more dejected than she means to sound. Suddenly she can’t take it back. She covers her mouth.
“Oh.” Lottie says, simply.
“Yeah, oh.” Nat mutters and looks down. There’s a long silence.
“Look this is way nicer than anything I could ever give you,” Nat says, way too earnest. Well, if they’re being honest.
Something charged and horrible enters the air. Lottie sobers then.
“I don’t want all this,” she reaches out and holds the girl’s hand, rubbing soothing circles into her skin, “You make this bearable.”
Nat stares harder than she has to and pulls her hand away.
“Glad I could be of service, Princess.” Half flirting, half longing. Nat turns to walk away, when Lottie stops her.
“I like it when you call me that,” comes Lottie’s earth stopping reply, and all distress leaves Nat.
She steps closer, now in her space, looking up. “You know what would really piss your dad off?”
Lottie stares down at the girl, mesmerized, lips lifting into a smirk.
“Enlighten me.”
Nat closes the distance and kisses hungrily, starving and ravenous. If this is the only time, she will ever get to kiss Lottie Matthews than she will make sure its at least memorable.
She pulls Lottie tighter to her body, all of them touching.
Back at the table after supper and dessert has just finished. Mr. Matthews eyes the way Nat and Lottie are looking at each other. His lip quirking with disgust at Nat’s hand on Lottie’s on the table. He stands then, and the music turns down as he raises a glass to toast.
“To my dearest daughter,” He intones, “And to the fortuitous bond between her and our gracious partner family, a fine young man I am proud to hopefully one day call my son in law.” There is poignant laughter at this, as a known prep school brat walks to their table. Nat clenches her jaw at the terrorizer and Lottie tightens her grip on Nat’s hand.
“Father, please—” she starts, but is met with a glare. She stops.
“Do this for your father, Charlotte,” his voice carries only for their table to hear, “I do all of this for you.”
Lottie wears a scowl that turns into a look of betrayal. She relents when the boy appears at her side. Then she beams at the boy like nothing had happened. Nat shivers at the switch.
She tries not to let it hurt her as Lottie is led onto the ballroom floor. Evident that she is made for this, well practiced, poised and a portrait of perfection.
“Seems she has made her choice from here, Miss Scatorccio. Now would you like us to charter a ride home for you?” Mr. Matthews drawls with a smirk obscured behind his wine glass.
Her blood boils then, rings in her ears. Her and Lottie catch each other’s glance and Lottie’s mask falters. Imperceptible to the outsider. A twinge of a frown enhancing the lines around her nose. The look when she’s forced to take the fall for someone else on the team, or when the girls pile on Laura Lee. Recognizes the look from when Lottie arrives at school and when she leaves alone after practice. The look that melts her, makes her want to move everything in the world so she never has to see it again.
Nat watches the boy’s hand slip lower against the small of Lottie’s back. Watches her shift uncomfortably and introduce a millimetre of distance between them.
Nat downs her glass of champagne and crosses over to them. That impulsive part of Nat which gets her in trouble, which has caused her more misfortune than necessary is impossibly strong right now. She ignores the Matthews trying to call for her to come back to the table. Ignores the whispers, and eyes on her, judgement, and gossip.
Walks right up to the pair and taps his shoulder.
He laughs a harsh laugh, whispers, “Fuck off trailer trash.”
And that’s when an audible slap sounds through the hall and he steps back more confused than anything. He holds his cheek and him and Nat widen their eyes at Lottie who is shaking out her hand. Nat wants to hug Lottie, smother her in kisses and swear her eternal loyalty right there. Instead, she stifles a laugh at the boy.
“Seriously?” He growls, then smoothes out his hair and wounded image, “Freaks,” He spits as he storms out.
Nat watches him go at a loss for words. The first time since Van that anyone has ever stood up for her.
Lottie holds out her hand then. The one that’s shaking a little. Nat takes it and pulls Lottie close, steadying the jitters in the taller girl.
“Eager girl,” Lottie murmurs, sending chills down Nat’s spine. Nat is forced to look up at the girl.
“May I have this dance?” Nat asks, having wanted to ask that the past year. Since forever probably.
The DJ seems to understand and plays a slow melody. Nat almost forgets that she has no dance experience. She glances down at their feet trying to focus on not fucking up the moment. That’s when she feels Lottie’s fingers brush against her jaw, bringing her attention back to gazing up at her. Lottie leads and Nat has nothing to worry about anymore. Dancing is like breathing when you have Lottie Matthews as your guide.
She doesn’t know if she’s ever felt this held by anyone, unsure if she’s ever felt more safe and secure in another’s arms.
The song ends and people actually clap. Nat laughs and whispers up at Lottie, “Lets get out of here.”
Ignoring the Matthews’ protests, Nat leads them out, and into the cool air. They walk giggling for a bit hand in hand until Nat stops suddenly.
“Wait—Lottie—are we just not gonna talk tomorrow?” Nat asks, sobering. Lottie appears worried.
“Is that what you want?”
“No.” Nat answers too quickly. She doesn’t know what to do with the newfound warmth, doesn’t know how to not fuck it all up. Its terrifying.
“What if you don’t like me tomorrow?” Nat can’t stop herself from saying, her voice small. When I no longer serve a purpose?
Lottie is stunned for a moment before surging forward and crushing Nat into an embrace. Before Lottie can pull away fully, Nat leans up on her tip toes and kisses Lottie’s cheek, right next to her gorgeous lips. They share a look before Lottie is pinning Nat up against the wall.
They kiss messily, rawer than before in their tipsy states. Nat is surprised Lottie can kiss with just as much fervor. They kiss until they’re panting, Nat’s dress shirt is unbuttoned, tie undone, and Lottie’s dress straps are off her shoulders. Nat’s hands have not left Lottie’s hips and waist, and Lottie’s haven’t left her neck and chest.
“I think I know what to give you now, for your sixteenth,” Nat breathes, swollen lips lifting into a smirk.
“My place?”
The two hold hands all the way there.