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Nat is in the locker room after practice, shoving her uniform into her worn backpack, when she feels a tap on her shoulder. Behind her, Lottie is leaning against the lockers with a mischievous smile.
“You busy today?” Lottie asks.
Nat tries her best to seem uninterested. “Actually, I’m supposed to hang out with–”
“Yeah, no, you’re not,” Lottie interrupts. “Busy, I mean. ‘Cause you can do that any day, but today you’re going to hang out with me instead. Right?”
She smirks at the annoyance contorting Nat’s features, the familiar way her eyebrows furrow and her lips pout in the way Lottie always seems to make them. Nat shakes her head and finally gives the answer they both knew was inevitable. “Fine.”
Lottie beams, grabbing Nat’s bag out of her locker and slinging it onto her own shoulder. She leaves without turning around to make sure that Nat is following. They both know she is.
Lottie passes Jackie and Shauna deep in conversation, heads together, and politely pretends she doesn't see Tai and Van flirting in the corner; she waves to Laura Lee, who waves back just as enthusiastically and smiles at Nat, who doesn’t even notice. They step back into the sun together and Lottie leads them to the black car that’s waiting at the curb.
Nat opens the door and they sprawl into the backseat, one after the other, tossing their bags near their ankles. Lottie leans forward and says something to the driver that Nat doesn’t quite catch, and then she’s leaning carelessly into Nat’s shoulder as the car pulls away and Nat is trying hard not to move, afraid that the smallest shift will put a space between them and leave her aching for warmth.
Nat speaks up before she can get too in her head. “Where are we going? Your place?”
“Not yet,” Lottie replies easily. “It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t–”
“–like surprises?” Lottie finishes the sentence at the same time Nat does. “I know. It’s not a big deal or anything, I promise. Just a little errand and then we can do whatever you want back at mine, OK?”
Nat acquiesces silently, and Lottie smiles to herself, satisfied. She watches the world pass by through the windows peacefully while Nat tries to do the same. She catches herself each time her eyes flit down to Lottie’s dark hair on her shoulder, forcing herself to play a pointed game of “I Spy” in her head with the quickly passing trees and buildings.
Soon the car is slowing down and Nat looks out her own window to see that they’re stopping in front of… TJ Maxx. Lottie knows if they stop moving and Nat has time to question it she might never get her in the store, so she works quickly, grabbing Nat’s arm and hauling her out of the car, thanking the driver, closing the door, and weaving her way onto the sidewalk and through the sliding doors, a suspicious Nat in tow.
“This is your errand?” Nat complains. Her arm is still linked in Lottie’s and she pretends not to notice so she doesn’t have to let go. “Can’t you spend your dad’s money by yourself?”
“Sure,” Lottie retorts, “but it’s more fun with you.” She smiles sweetly at Nat. “Go look around, will you? Pick something nice out for me.”
Nat rolls her eyes. “Charlotte Matthews, you are such a pain in the ass.”
Lottie gives her a gentle shove and Nat wanders off into the shirt section, leaving Lottie to focus on her mission. Lottie knows that there’s a reason they always hang out at her place instead of Nat’s, knows that as many times as Lottie can reassure her Nat will still be ashamed of the home she comes from, and she knows that Nat will resist this idea for those reasons and more. But Lottie feels a sense of shame too that she knows Nat doesn’t understand, one that bubbles up when she sees the holes wearing through Nat’s cleats and notices the same tiny stain on the knee of Nat’s jeans for days in a row, and lately it has been intertwining in Lottie’s chest with her love for Nat in a way that makes it hard to breathe when she looks at her. She doesn’t know what to do about most of it, but she has to do something, and so this half-baked, somewhat ridiculous, generous plan was born.
Twenty minutes later they regroup at the checkout line, Lottie’s arms overflowing with boxes and clothes, Nat self-consciously clutching something pink at a few inches’ distance, as if just holding it might corrupt her image somehow.
“Jesus Christ,” Nat exclaims. “What is all this shit?”
Lottie is unfazed. “Hold a box or something, will you?”
Reluctantly, Nat takes a shoebox and a black hoodie off the top of the pile, lightening Lottie’s load slightly and earning a grateful smile. Lottie starts to pile things on the counter, turning to Nat when her arms are finally empty.
“Here, give me that.” She reaches for what Nat’s carrying, adding it to the top of the stack. Nat shoves her hands in her pockets. She watches Lottie dig through her wallet while the cashier fills bag after bag, transfixed by Lottie’s delicate hands, and shifts her weight between her feet.
After what feels to Nat like an eternity of waiting around, the process of leaving goes quickly - Nat helps Lottie fill the trunk of the car with the bags, leaving red lines carved into her hands from their weight, before they collapse exhausted into the backseat and the drive back to Lottie’s house is filled with comfortable silence.
Instead of going into the house, Lottie leads Nat to the patio, where they drop everything in a giant heap. Nat lowers herself to the ground while Lottie disappears into the house, re-emerging quickly with two cans of soda in one hand and a joint in the other. She keeps a can for herself and hands everything else to Nat before dropping to the ground beside her. Nat has the joint lit before Lottie is even sitting down.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Lottie says. Nat passes the joint as an answer.
“So… what did you get me?” Lottie asks, excitement and nervousness making her voice waver just a little. She peers into the bags nearest her but can’t find what she’s looking for.
“It’s over here, dumbass,” Nat sighs. She reaches into the bag beside her and takes a deep breath before she pulls out her purchase, thrusting it at Lottie with a strange mix of embarrassment and pride.
Lottie unfolds it carefully. “Oh, Nat, I love it!” she exclaims, examining the soft pink sweater, then the pink and white pleated skirt. Her eyes are wide and bright with joy and Nat feels her cheeks flushing the same shade as the clothes. She quickly takes another hit off the joint, hoping Lottie doesn’t notice the way Nat can’t meet her eyes.
“Thank you,” Lottie says sincerely, wrapping her arm around Nat’s shoulders and hugging her tightly. Nat rests her head on Lottie’s shoulder, her face buried in her dark hair, breathing in the familiar smell of her, not trusting herself to speak.
Lottie disentangles herself all too soon, knowing she has to bite the bullet. “OK, my turn.”
Nat groans. “What, you’re gonna show me all of the five hundred shirts you bought yourself? No offense, Lot, but that sounds a little like torture.”
“No,” Lottie says, taking a deep breath, “I’m going to show you what I got you.”
Nat’s eyes widen as Lottie starts to pull things out of bags – shiny black cleats, t-shirts, button-downs, hoodies, jeans – and Lottie can see her gaze hardening, see the fire burning behind her eyes, but she keeps going until everything is out in the open around them.
When Nat speaks, her voice is low and quiet, and Lottie almost wishes she would yell instead. “I don’t need you to do this.”
“I know you don’t, Nat, I just–”
“I don’t need your help, Lottie!” Nat bursts out. “I’m not some fucking charity case, I don’t need you to waste your fucking dad’s money on me–”
“I didn’t,” Lottie interrupts, and maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say because that isn’t even the point, not really, but it gets Nat to stop and finally look her in the eyes. “I didn’t spend my dad’s money, and it wouldn’t have been a waste if I did, but it doesn’t even matter because I didn’t spend it, OK?”
“You expect me to believe that?” Nat scoffs. "If you're going to lie, at least make it a good one. I watched you buy all this."
Lottie sighs. “If I tell you a secret, will you just take it? All the stuff? And not fight with me about it?”
Nat stews, rolls the joint between her fingers, thinking it over, swallowing the hot rush of shame that’s been rising in her throat. As much as it pains her, part of her burns with joy that Lottie has done this for her, that she knows Nat well enough to pick out so many things she loves (because really, they are perfect for her, and they both know it), and that she cares enough to do it despite knowing how Nat would react. And of course, even though she can’t bring herself to admit it, she is desperate to know the secret Lottie is promising, desperate for any part of Lottie she can cling to.
“Fine,” she says. “What’s the big secret, then?”
Lottie snatches the joint back nimbly and takes the last hit for courage, tossing it to the ground beside them. “OK, OK.”
Lottie watches Nat’s eyes widen as she explains the chronicles of her strange TJ Maxx cycle, the stealing, the returns, the credits upon credits that she never ever uses, until today. She struggles to explain why she drew the moral line at spending them, struggles to even understand it herself, and can’t find the right words to articulate how spending them on Nat instead felt so good, like she was finally doing something right. She hopes Nat will understand anyway. She always does.
When Lottie finally talks herself out, there’s a moment of silence between them, one incredulous, one breathless and nervous, and both teetering on the verge of laughter that once it starts might never stop. Nat breaks first and suddenly they’re both in hysterics, Lottie doubling over and tipping into Nat’s lap. Nat wraps her arms around her instinctively and giggles even harder with relief when Lottie doesn’t seem to mind.
Finally, they peter off into just the occasional snort. “Charlotte Matthews,” Nat giggles, “I would not have pegged you for a shoplifter. But it’s even better that you’re bad at it.”
Lottie slaps Nat lightly on the arm, faking offense, but can’t contain her smile. “Shut up, Scatorccio,” she snaps playfully. “But you can’t tell anyone, OK? Take this to the grave.”
Nat agrees maybe a little too eagerly. Emboldened by the confession and probably the weed, she lowers her head onto Lottie’s shoulder, then quietly slips her hand into the crook of Lottie’s elbow. They stay there for what feels like hours, softly intertwined, as the sun begins to set, bathing both of their faces in its fading gold.
Later, when Lottie’s face is lit by dancing firelight instead and she makes her confession for the second time, Nat will shift in her seat and try to ignore the sinking hole that expands inside her rib cage, quietly mourning the loss of one small part of Lottie that was hers and hers alone.