Work Text:
Dating Buddy is like the Trojans letting a giant wooden horse through the gates of the city. When you first see him, you think he’s endearing and sweet, a real nice guy. He pays for you on dates, offers you his jacket when you’re cold, opens the door for you, all the nice things you’d want your boyfriend to do for you. But then you spend more time with him, let him in, and all of a sudden you start noticing the little things. He’s a bit out of it sometimes, like he’s not really with you, or he acts nice and normal when you see him first thing in the morning, but then later in the day he drops you like a brick in the water and doesn’t look back as you sink. He ignores you for two days straight while he’s hanging out with his buddies all the time.
That’s what Susan’s relationship with Buddy was like. She’d tried to salvage it, save the relationship. She’d tried everything to make him pay attention to her; she’d changed her style, she ate less, did nothing but serve him like a good wife would (according to her mother at least), but to no avail. Buddy had been out of it for several days, his eyes were always glassy and he’d been abandoning his student council president duties, leaving Susan to pick up the slack for him.
When Buddy put an end to the relationship, the only person who was absolutely wrecked by the news was Susan’s mom. For Susan herself, it was sort of a relief. Buddy had done what she couldn’t, and she was weirdly grateful. She still worried about him and tried to help him out when she noticed him slipping again, but there was less pressure, less of her thinking I have to do this for him and more I want to do this for him.
She doesn’t see Buddy most of the Summer, and at the drive-in on the last day of summer, she finds out why. Jane roams around the lot in Buddy’s letterman jacket, the same one Susan handed back to him like it was a wedding ring when they broke up. Rosemary is the first to run up to her to share the news.
The first thing Susan thinks is good, maybe she’ll keep him on track. A moment later she remembers everyone is looking at her. Rosemary, Pearl, Dot, Peg, they’re all here, waiting for her to break down. She hears her mother’s voice in her head, telling her appearance and reputation is everything. She pulls a tissue out of her bag and sniffles as she dabs her face with it. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t care Buddy is with Jane now, but people need to think she cares. Buddy is the star quarterback and Susan is the most popular girl in their grade, they’re supposed to be together, and she’s supposed to want that. Which means she’s also supposed to be devastated if he chooses someone else over her.
The girls pull her away from the people, into the bathroom where they all offer her words of encouragement about how much better than Jane she is, how stupid Buddy is for choosing Jane over her and how they’ll be okay, Buddy will see his mistake and they’ll get back together. Just when she thinks she can drop the charade and collect herself, maybe find another boy to show everyone she’s still got it, Jane walks in.
Jane sees the scene before her and immediately feels like she walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see. Susan, surrounded by her friends who are all offering her tissues and trying to cheer her up. “Sorry,” she says. She just wants to pee and get out of here as fast as possible. No part of her wants to inconvenience Susan or her flock of sheep, she doesn’t need that kind of target on her back.
But it’s too late.
“Have a fun summer, Jane?” Rosemary shoots. If her eyes could shoot lightning, Jane would be turned to ash already.
“Yeah, have a fun summer?” Dot echoes. Susan quiets her down.
“I’m sorry,” Susan says. Jane looks terrified. “They’re just being protective because, well, Buddy and I used to go together.” A forced sob comes out. Susan feels ridiculous. If Jane wants to date Buddy, she should, because Susan doesn’t even want him back. She abruptly stops crying and says, “Oh, but that’s ancient history. Now you’re going with him. Steady. That makes me so… happy.”
She’s tired of this. Susan starts walking away, and all the girls follow her outside. The first thing she sees when she steps out are the T-Birds, and she doesn’t even think before walking up to them and asking Richie to buy her a soda. That’ll distract everyone while simultaneously showing them she can still get any guy she wants. And bonus, she has someone else to pay for her drink. It’s perfect.
Over the course of the next few days and weeks, Susan keeps a close eye on Buddy and Jane. They break up in their first week together and everyone convinces Susan she should date Buddy again, but neither of them really wants that. It’s clear Buddy’s still fixated on Jane anyway, but it seems like Susan is the only one who can see it. Maybe she is, she’s the only one who knows Buddy well enough and cares about him enough to pick up on the subtle (and less subtle) signals.
When Buddy is elected student council president and Jane is the first person he runs to talk to, it’s clear something happened between them. She watches their tense conversation from a distance as people around her celebrate Buddy’s win—a win she knows he didn’t deserve, because her mom was in the room when the votes were counted and she knows for a fact he lost.
Later the same day, she shows up at Buddy’s house to talk about his strategy for the next year, because God knows he wouldn’t know where to start if she’d leave him to his own devices. She steps inside and calls out for him in the dark house. There’s mellow music playing somewhere, but she can’t locate the exact room.
“Susan?” Buddy’s voice is coming from the salon. Susan walks in and sees Buddy standing in the middle of the room, seemingly distressed. “I—oh.” He steps aside and Susan comes eye-to-eye with Jane, who looks more worried than Buddy.
“Jane,” Susan smiles. A genuine smile. “Are you helping Buddy?” She nods, and Susan lets out a little laugh. “Alright, I guess I can go home then. You’ve got this? The two of you?” She looks back and forth between the two of them. They both look terrified, like they’re waiting for the bomb to drop, waiting for Susan to blow up.
“Yes, uh… Yes, we do,” Buddy says eventually.
“Great! I’ll see both of you later,” she smiles. “Best of luck!” She walks away, leaving Jane and Buddy behind completely baffled. She’s so done with always fighting, always being mean and pretending to chase someone she doesn’t even like anymore. Her and Buddy have run their course and both of them need to accept that. If Buddy is happy with Jane, she’s happy for him.
The next few days, Susan starts noticing the first little changes in Buddy and Jane’s behaviour. Buddy is back to being in a constant daze, and Jane is busy planning everything for the dance. She’s making phone calls, talking to McGee and Nicholson, deciding on a theme, all while Buddy doesn’t even bother showing up to the student council meetings, despite being president. As second in line, Jane takes over for him, but no one will let her forget she didn’t actually win the election and everything she decides will still have to be approved by Buddy.
Susan feels bad for her. She really does. She’s been Jane, she knows how hard it can be to stick by Buddy when he gets like this. His dad gets in his head, and then there’s no other escape for him than to just be drunk and be with his friends, where he can temporarily forget what’s waiting for him at home.
The next time Susan sees Jane it’s for driver’s ed. She looks tired, and when she sees Susan her face clouds over. “Oh. Perfect,” she sighs.
Coach walks towards them and says, “Oh good, two girls. Who wants to go first?”
“Me,” Susan says at the same time Jane says, “I’ll go.”
“You go first,” Susan smiles. She doesn’t even wait for a reply from either Jane or Coach before she slides into the backseat. The entire afternoon, Coach lets them take turns driving so he can run his errands. Neither of them proves to be very good at it, unfortunately.
Between each stop, Susan tries to make conversation with Jane, but Jane keeps blocking her out. She’s just about to tell Jane she knows what it’s like to be Buddy’s girlfriend when Coach gets back in the car with his drycleaning and tells Susan to drive to the post office. Pulling out doesn’t go well, and suddenly Jane is yelling at her and she’s getting overstimulated. Susan drives off and zones out to tune Jane out.
When Susan refocusses, both Coach and Jane are yelling at her, telling her to brake. Coach pulls the steering wheel and redirects Susan while he’s still yelling she needs to brake. The car comes to a violent stop when it slams into a road sign and hobbles off the side of the road.
“Everyone okay?” Coach asks. Susan and Jane nod, both dazed. “Stay here, I’ll be back with a tow truck.” He gets out of the car and starts walking towards the nearest gas station, leaving the girls behind.
Jane gets out of the car and looks around. There are a few houses around, but no one on the street. She sticks her head back in to inform Susan, who’s picking up pills from the floor of the car now. They must’ve fallen out of her purse when she braked. Jane helps her pick up the pills, feeling less hateful towards her now that she’s seen Susan isn’t always as together as she seems.
They end up on the grass next to each other, the car behind them, hiding them from curious stares at the car wreck as they wait for Coach to come back.
“I bet you’re gonna tell the whole school how I went crazy and drove us off a cliff, right?” Susan asks. She’s staring straight ahead, she can’t look Jane in the eye right now. This whole time, she’s been so focused on getting Jane to see she’s a kind person with good intentions, and for what? Sometimes people don’t like each other, it happens. So why force it?
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Jane says earnestly.
“Of course,” Susan scoffs. “You’re too good of a person.” She pauses, then says, “I wasn’t being facetious. You actually are a good person.”
“Thank you,” Jane says. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s okay.” Susan looks over at Jane, who looks like she can start crying at any moment. “I know Buddy can be a lot to deal with when he gets like this,” she says. “But I need you to know that you are not the problem. I’m sure you’ve noticed his life at home isn’t always the greatest, no matter what it looks like from the outside.”
Jane looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Oh,” Susan says. “I thought you knew, you’ve been with him so much, I figured he’d tell you.”
“He didn’t tell me anything.” She pauses and looks at Susan, who’s looking away from Jane. “Can you?” Susan doesn’t say anything. “Please?”
“It’s really something you should ask him,” she replies. “I will say you deserve better than what he’s giving you now.”
“No, we’re good. We’re okay. He just needs to relax for a bit, but he’ll get himself back together before the dance.”
Susan turns her full body sideways and places a hand on Jane’s knee. “Jane, listen to me. I’ve been there. It doesn’t get better. He may get back to himself for a while, but he always relapses and you’re gonna be the one left to pick up the pieces. You deserve better. You deserve someone who knows and appreciates your worth, who knows how smart you are and isn’t threatened by it. You deserve someone who shows up for you. Someone who takes your ideas and interests seriously. I know he didn’t really want to talk about the dance with you when I came in that night.”
“He did,” Jane tries, but she knows it’s a lie. Between the dimmed lights and the music he put on, it was never really about the dance. She knows Susan knows that too.
“Okay,” Susan says. There’s no judgement in her tone. “You deserve someone who doesn’t lie to you. You got the most votes, not him. You should’ve been president.”
“Sounds like I just need someone like you, huh?” Jane chuckles weakly. She takes a deep breath in. “You’re not the worst, Susan. I really misjudged you.”
“People do that quite a lot.” Susan looks sad as she says it, and Jane remembers all the times she overheard people talking about Susan behind her back. Every single one of her supposed best friends has talked shit about her before, and Susan seems to be well aware of that.
“You deserve better as well,” Jane says. She goes in for a hug, and Susan, while caught off guard at first, lets herself get wrapped up in Jane’s arms and relaxes. While they’re holding each other, it feels like something has shifted. The mistrust Jane has always harboured for Susan fades away. The accident was a turning point, and Susan’s earnest speech to Jane is what finally tipped them over completely.
Susan’s grip on Jane loosens ever so slightly, and her body inches away from her, though their faces stay close together. Susan’s fingers intertwine with Jane’s and then, with a shared understanding, they both lean in slowly. Hidden from possible bypassers by the broken down car behind them, their lips meet.
Jane’s eyes are open, too slow to catch up with the rest of her body when she kisses Susan—or when Susan kisses her, the lines are blurred. The kiss is tentative, both of them aren’t really sure what’s happening, but neither of them pulls away. Jane’s eyes close when Susan deepens the kiss, leaning in more and pulling Jane closer to her.
“Gas station’s closed,” Coach’s voice sounds somewhere behind them. Susan and Jane jump apart immediately, leaving five feet of space between them when he steps around the car. Susan straightens out her skirt and her hair while Jane just stares off into the distance. “We have to walk back.”
“What?” Susan exclaims.
That brings Jane back to Earth. “That’s gotta be three miles!”
“Better get used to it, because you both flunked,” Coach says. Jane runs after him, begging him not to flunk her. He hands her his drycleaning and ignores her pleas. Susan is left behind, still sitting on the grass as she watches Jane walk away.
What did I just do? she asks herself. She was reckless. Anyone could have seen her, and God knows what they’d say about her if they knew. But she hasn’t felt as alive as she does now in ages. The thrill of doing something so completely different from what her mother would want her to do and the things she felt when she kissed Jane.
It felt like standing on a mountaintop, with the breathtaking expanse of the world before you. The air crisp, and each breath you take feels invigorating, as if infused with the essence of life itself. In that moment, you're filled with a profound sense of awe and wonder. That's what it felt like—being fully alive, as if every moment is imbued with a newfound richness and significance.
Jane corners Susan the next day at school. “We need to talk.”
Susan nods. She’d liked to avoid this conversation, but there’s no way Jane, world class overthinker, would let her, so she just follows Jane into the janitor’s closet.
“Not exactly where I expected we’d go,” Susan says as the door falls closed behind her. She switches on the light and looks at Jane.
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s the only place where we’ll get some privacy.”
Susan shrugs. “It’s okay.” Awkward silence falls between them for a bit as Susan waits for Jane to take the lead. She sits down on an upside down bucket and looks up at her, but Jane doesn’t say a word. She’s fidgety, looking at Susan one moment and inspecting the cleaning supplies in the rack next to her the next. “You wanted to talk,” Susan encourages her.
“Not really,” Jane says. Susan frowns at her, but she quickly understands what Jane means when she leans down, takes her chin and tilts her head up before kissing her. Blood rushes to Susan’s head when she does, and she pulls Jane closer by her waist until she sits in her lap, the kiss unbroken.
When their lips break apart, Susan quickly places a short kiss on Jane’s lips and smiles up at her. Jane’s eyes are full of admiration as she smiles back before kissing her again. They miss the beginning of Home Economics. Susan walks in five minutes late and gets reprimanded by Ms. Adcock. Jane follows a few minutes later in her hall monitor vest, which helps her get off easy.
“I should break up with Buddy,” Jane sighs. She’s in bed, on the phone with Susan. It’s been almost a month since driver’s ed, but Jane hasn’t told Buddy anything. Not that she’d ever tell him she kissed Susan, let alone that she’s still doing that to this day. Buddy has noticed Jane and Susan have been hanging out more, but they told him they were just working on ‘things’ for student council and he left it at that. “I just don’t know how, I’ve never done this before.”
“Didn’t you break up with him at the beginning of the year?”
“That was different. It was mutual, and he’s the one who initiated it. He knew I didn’t want to be kept a secret. I’m nothing to be ashamed of.”
A beat of silence falls on the other side of the line before Susan asks, “Do you hate hiding?” Her voice is small, scared the answer will be yes and this—whatever this is, they still haven’t really talked about it—will end.
Jane considers the question. “A little bit. It stresses me out, but it’s worth it with you. And it’s different with Buddy. He was ashamed of me and the things people were saying about me. That’s not the case with you.”
They both knew what they were getting into from the beginning. They knew they’d have to hide, but they still went all in for each other.
“I have to go,” Susan says.
“Oh,” Jane says. She’s scared she said something that upset Susan. “Um. Okay. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah. Bye, Jane.” A click, and Susan is gone. Jane falls back, flat on her back, holds the horn to her chest and breathes out. Her thoughts race as she replays the conversation in her head, trying to see it from Susan’s perspective. Though she’s never explicitly said it, Susan is probably not keen on Jane and Buddy still being together. It can’t be fun seeing the girl you like kissing your ex-boyfriend and doing everything he wants at the snap of his fingers. Add Jane saying she doesn’t want to be kept a secret to that, and it’s clear why Susan ended the phone call so abruptly.
She sits up and dials Buddy’s number. It doesn’t take long before his father picks up the phone. “Aldridge residence.”
“Good evening Sir. It’s Jane, could I speak with Buddy please?”
There’s a grunt, followed by a muffled It’s for you before Buddy comes to the phone.
“Hello?”
“Buddy, it’s me. Jane.”
“Hi Jane.” She can hear his smile through the phone, and she almost changes her mind. She should do this in person, not over the phone in the late evening. No. She pushes through. She owes it to Susan.
The conversation that follows is difficult. At first Buddy refuses to accept it and he begs Jane to give him another chance. He asks her why and then doesn’t listen to her answer. Jane can hear Dick in the background, telling Buddy to man up and not be so ridiculous. Jane tells him they can still be friends and she’ll still help him out with everything that has to do with student council, but she doesn’t mention she’s only doing it because she enjoys it, not because it’s him. Buddy reluctantly accepts it.
A knock on the window pulls Jane's attention away from her conversation with Buddy. She squints, trying to see who’s outside, but all she sees is a pastel yellow blob. She tells Buddy she has to go and hangs up on him before he can say goodbye.
Jane crosses the room to her window and sees Susan sitting outside, hunched over and smiling at her. Jane slides the window up and lets her in, putting a finger to her lips to warn her she has to be quiet. Susan stumbles inside and straightens her skirt out. It has dirty grey spots all over it from the ivy that grows against the side of the house Susan climbed up against.
“What are you doing here?” Jane whispers. She looks at Susan, who’s always so particular about the way she looks, standing in front of her in her dirty dress and her ruffled hair. “I can’t believe you climbed up here.”
Susan kisses her and smiles softly. “Right? I’m honestly not sure. I just wanted to see you.”
“I thought you were mad at me,” Jane says. “I thought I’d said something wrong.”
“You didn’t. I understand that hiding is hard, but as long as you’re up for it, I want to hide with you. And Buddy—”
“I just broke up with him,” Jane interjects before Susan can finish her sentence.
She lights up. “You did?” Jane nods. “Really?”
Jane chuckles and squeezes Susan’s hand. “Yes, really. It was time, you deserve someone who’s all in on you, and I wasn’t giving you that.”
“No one I’ve ever dated has ever said anything like that to me before,” Susan says as she tucks a strand of hair behind Jane’s ear.
Jane’s cheeks turn rosy and the left corner of her mouth tugs upward. “We’re dating?” She’s completely flustered, as if this is the first she’s hearing of this. Technically it is, they’ve never put labels on whatever it is they do in between classes and after school.
“What did you think we were doing?” Susan chuckles. “Unless you don’t want to?” She gets serious all of a sudden, afraid she crossed a boundary.
“No—God, sorry,” Jane stutters. “Of course I want to. I really like you. I do.”
“So… I have a girlfriend?” Susan is weirdly self conscious when she asks the question. It sounds foreign in her mouth. She’s only ever had a boyfriend, and she’s always been the girlfriend. The world girlfriend comes with a whole array of preset rules, like how you’re always second to your boyfriend. You take care of him, stand by him no matter what he does and how he treats you and his wish is your command. With Jane, Susan is never second place. She stands by Jane, like how she defends her to the people opposing her in student council and she takes care of her, but not because she has to. She does so because she wants to. That must be the beauty of both having and being a girlfriend at the same time.
“Yeah,” Jane smiles. “So do I.”