Chapter Text
Josie’s throat itches when she draws in the smoke. All that grass cutting yesterday really did a number on the allergies. Nothing serious, just a slightly stuffy nose, swollen eyes and a sore throat. Despite the itching, she still inhales, letting the smoke settle deep in her lungs before slowly letting it out again. It makes her eyelids droop even further, her fingers weighty and the humid air in the attic blur into a dessert haze. She can feel Hope’s eyes from across her on the old armchair. She tries not to pay attention to it as she leans over from the couch to pass the joint.
The window is cracked open to let the warm late afternoon light in. The sun hangs low, cutting through the dust in the air, highlighting the curves of Hope’s face as she leans her head back against the head rest. Part of her nose and cheeks are marked red by sunburn and Josie has the urge to ask if she went to the beach, but she already asked about summer vacation earlier and Mystic Falls doesn’t have any local beaches. She watches the lazy grip Hope has on the joint, carelessly flicking ash into the soda can in her other hand before pressing it to her lips.
“What if they think everyone is just running away from them and it makes them anxious” Hope says on the exhale.
“I don’t think they care.” Josie pulls her knees to her chest and lets her cheek rest on the cool leather back of the couch. It’s a welcome contrast to the lingering late summer heat clinging to her skin. They’re talking about snails, about whether or not they know they’re slow or just thinks everyone else is freakishly fast. Josie’s not sure who brought up the conversation, but she feels a pulsating drum when thinking too hard about it. Hope is always more talkative when she’s buzzed even if said talk is about snails.
“You’re no fun” Hope jabs at her. Then a playful smirk curls onto her lips. “Speaking of fun, I heard you knocked Mr. drill sergeant out cold, wish I had seen that”.
Josie rolls her eyes but can’t help the small smile that lifts her cheeks. It was but an accident, a badly aimed throw that resulted in the dodge-ball landing directly in Mr. Henderson’s face. Hard. The day after he had come in with bandages stuck on his cheek. She would’ve been sorry if not for the fact that he was such an ass. PE teachers being the spawn of the devil seemed to be an universal truth.
“Wasn’t a pretty sight.” Josie frowns, trying to piece together how the week went. “How’d you hear about that anyways? You haven’t even been to school since vacation ended.”
“I have my sources” Hope shrugs, a slight smile on her face, and doesn’t elaborate further.
A comfortable quiet falls over the room. The speaker sitting on the metal-box in the corner plays something soft and distant, a song she doesn’t recognize but feels like she should. Hope has the biggest CD collection Josie has ever seen, and the girl likes to switch up the vibes every now and then, so just when a tune would begin to sound familiar a new one would enter the club. Hope is humming along, tapping her fingers on the can to the beat, her other hand swinging the joint to the melody.
Josie knows she has been staring when Hope stops her concert and raises a brow at her. She clears her throat and lets her gaze drift around the room. It’s a bit weird being back in the attic after not having seen the aurbunette for a while. The attic is just as she remembers almost 3 months ago, empty for the most part except a few posters decorating the sloping walls and the minimal furniture consisting of a couch, an armchair, a long shelf with the CDs and a makeshift coffee table — an old crate stacked on beer boxes, cluttered with a few magazines, a metal ashtray and a pack of playing cards that she has never seen touched before. And of course, the unmistakable scent of weed mixed with a fruity perfume clinging to the air. Josie’s not sure if it just always smells like this in here, or if it just does that when she’s over since all they do together is get high.
She and Lizzie always spent summers with their mom, which for the past few years had been in Belgium. Mostly Brussels, but this year they had gone on a road trip around the country. Three months of visiting fairy-like canals, medieval castles, dense forests and rolling hills. All that top-ten-places-to-go stuff. Hope had stayed back in Mystic Falls and they hadn’t exchanged a single text the entire vacation. So when school started again, Josie couldn’t help but wonder if months of silence changed things.
But Hope, always curt and casual, had just sent her a message on the first day back: ‘Friday my place?’ Josie doesn’t know why she bothers with the ‘my place’, they never go to hers after all. But the familiarity of it soothes her and of course she’d sent a ‘I’ll be there’ back.
A nudge against her foot. The joint in Hope’s hand out towards her.
She shakes her head, already feeling the good night’s sleep that will embrace her tonight. Hope shrugs, taking a long hit herself.
“You didn’t miss much, you know,” Josie says after a while.
Hope takes another hit and puts the empty can on the table, joint on the ashtray. “Figured.” Her voice is neutral, almost disinterested.
Josie shrugs. "It’s the same stuff. I’m already behind, though. Can’t seem to catch up." It sounds much more unsure than she had intended, and she feels a flush creep up her neck.
Hope glances at her then, the look brief but sharp enough to make Josie’s throat catch. Hope straightens up in her seat and for a moment it looks like she’s going to reach over and put a hand on Josie’s shoulder, but instead she stands up and walks over to the shelves, flipping through the CDs.
“You’ll figure it out,” she says eventually, casually, like she’s said it to Josie a million times. “You always do.”
Josie’s not sure about that. The closer graduation gets, the bigger the cloud of impending doom hovers above her, its shadow creeping longer every day. It’s like a storm she can’t see coming; but she feels the heaviness in the air, the static building, like something’s about to crack. She tries to ignore it, but it’s there, always there—lurking in the background, waiting for her to finally break. Sometimes, she wonders if it’s already happening, if she swallowed it a long time ago and now it lives inside of her like an organ that keeps her body running, mind awake. She doesn’t know how to explain all that though, so she lets her eyes shut and tunes in to the new CD Hope puts on.
-
She’s apparently not as totally smooth and sneaky as she thinks she is, because by the time she finally manages to get her shoes and jacket off and turns the corner to head up the stairs, Lizzie is already standing there, one hand on her hip, the other arm leaning against the wall. Her eyes are narrowed and she looks like she just woke up. Which she probably did.
“Where have you been?”
“You’re still awake?” Josie tries. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture, and her bed is literally just a few stairs up and that is really what she needs.
Lizzie’s voice is low, unimpressed. “It’s after midnight. Where’ve you been?”
Josie shifts in her place. She had fallen asleep at Hope’s place, and so had Hope. When she opened her eyes again, the clock had fast forwarded a couple of hours.
She offers Lizzie a smile. “Out.”
“Out where?” Lizzie’s arms are crossed, and she’s standing like a brick wall.
Josie hesitates, biting her lip. Contemplating whether to just lie, but knows it won’t work. “Just... hanging out.”
Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “With Hope, I’m guessing?”
Josie doesn’t miss the edge to her sister’s voice and the twitch in her eyebrow as she says Hope’s name. She doesn’t answer, and that’s enough for Lizzie, she sighs and budges just a tiny bit which tells Josie that she’s too tired for this too.
“You smell like crap Jo” Lizzie observes, her tone is light but her eyes are sharp. “You’ve been doing that again?”
And that forms the knot in her chest. She wants to point out how hypocritical Lizzie is—judging her when she’s out drinking almost every weekend at whatever party was nearby. It’s just weed. It’s not like she’s ruining her life. Not like she can’t live without it. She was doing just fine in Belgium. She acts like Josie is spiraling, like Hope is some terrible influence, like this is some huge problem that needs fixing. It’s not.
But she doesn’t say anything. She just exhales through her nose and looks away, because arguing with Lizzie never goes anywhere.
Lizzie watches her for a second, then sighs. “Dad’s home tomorrow evening. Take a shower before then, Jo.” A pause. “And my door’s open if you need anything.”
Josie just nods and turns toward her room.
-
She first met Hope in 4th grade.
She had cried her eyes out the day before. Her parents had been arguing more and more back then. That day had been one of those; her mom had left the house, the slam of the door echoing through the house, her dad quiet in his office room, only the sound of bottles clinking filtering through the brittle walls. She had gone into Lizzie’s room, as she did often back then, climbing onto her sister’s bed and wrapping herself with the duvet, snuggling into Lizzie’s side as she tried to shut out the uncomfortable feeling in her chest until she fell asleep.
The days after the arguments were always the best. On those days she and Lizzie would wake up much earlier to make it to school, since their dad wouldn’t be awake to drive them and their mom wasn’t home. They would make their own breakfasts, laughing as they found whatever was in the cabinet and fridge and put together food combos that were either a hit or miss (usually a miss). Sometimes they tried to follow recipes for pancakes and when they finally succeeded in making something that wasn’t black from soot, they could fill it with however much syrup they wanted.
They would walk, hand in hand and talk about all and nothing on the way to school. About where butterflies would go when winter came, about how the newest episode of whatever was playing on the TV was crazy or how Lizzie was crushing on a boy in their year. It always put her in a better mood spending time with her sister like that.
But that morning Lizzie was feeling sick, and Josie could sense the fever coming on from miles away— call it twin senses.
It had felt lonelier then, waking up eating breakfast, getting ready for school and walking to school alone. She doesn’t know what came over her that day, maybe it was the presence of emptiness she felt in the absence of her sister by her side, maybe it was just the hot summer sun shining down on her. Maybe it was simply just a feeling. A hunch.
But Josie didn’t go to school that day. Instead she had turned right at the traffic lights away from the road leading directly to her school.
In hindsight, it could have gone terribly wrong. Lizzie had always been the more daring one out of the two of them, always more outspoken, more rebellious and more curious about the world. Josie, however, had always been timid, strolling one step behind Lizzie, clinging to her sister’s hand who guided her forward. So it wasn’t a surprise that she quickly got lost.
She had ended up sitting in an unknown park, having no clue how long she had been walking aimlessly, tears in her eyes, mentally scolding herself for ever straying off the path to school.
That’s when the auburn-haired girl had appeared in front of her a soccer ball under one arm, ice cream cone in her other hand, staring down at Josie sitting on the bench. There were no other kids or adults on the playground.
“You look sad” She had stated, like it was a fact. Josie had blinked at her, confused, eyes flickering between the girl and the big ice cream cone in her hand.
“Here. Take this, it’s tasty” the girl had then shoved the ice cream into Josie’s hand, not caring that the cream part of it had settled onto her palm, and just like that ran away, kicking the ball along the playground, disappearing from her sight, leaving her wondering if she ever was real.
Not long after, some adults had come to her rescue, kindly asking her where she lived and called her dad to come pick her up at the park. The only sign of the girl was the melting ice cream in her hand.
In the start of Junior year, Josie saw her again.
Hope, she learned, was her name.
It happened in the old gym building’s changing room, an abandoned place that only ever saw visitors in the form of stoners or lovers trying to find a place sheltered from prying eyes. Josie was neither, but she was trying to get away from the world itself, and what better place than one, where not even Lizzie would think she was hiding in.
She had barged in, not expecting anyone to be there as she took action in soothing her own heartbeat with her hand, counting to 10 as she tried to stop hyperventilating. And then she saw her, a crouched down figure sitting in the corner, back against a locker, legs crossed.
Josie recognized her almost immediately.
She wasn’t a kid anymore, but still had her auburn hair in a half up, half down style, the same big blue eyes and the sculpted petite nose. But she was taller now, her jaw sharper, her eyebrows more arched and smoke dallied around her like mist, the smell of cannabis drifting into Josie’s nose.
To this day, she isn’t sure what made Hope say what she did when their eyes met — maybe it was the drugs, maybe she recognized Josie too.
“You always this out of breath?”
“Huh?”
Hope tilted her head up, flicking ash to the ground. “Or is that just for me?”
Then with a lazy smile held out her joint. “Wanna get high?”
-
Much of what she knows of Hope seems to stem from those first conversations. Hope’s a transfer student, apparently. It makes sense, she’s got that mysterious energy about her. She spent the greater part of her childhood in Mystic Falls attending the fancy Salvatore Private School, a ways down from where Josie spent her own time in Mystic Falls Elementary School. Her parents had decided to move to New Orleans around 5th grade where she stayed until her mom passed and her dad moved them back to Mystic Falls in Junior year. She likes leather, likes the smell of gasoline, likes music, hates arrogant people and can throw a mean punch. She says it once and never says it again.
Josie doesn’t know why Hope let’s her stick around.
-
It takes exactly 1 week and 4 days for Hope to finally show her face in school. Josie only knows because that’s a new record — and this she only knows because Hope reminds her that the principal keeps a close eye on her. She forgets to ask if a new record means that that is the longest time Hope has gone without stepping foot on school ground or if it’s the shortest; she figures either way is impressive.
She was on her way to find Lizzie in the canteen, when she saw MG at his locker in the hallway. And just as she decided to change her course towards him she spotted the 5’3 auburn head next to him, backpack sliding down her shoulder, leather jacket even in the lingering heat from August. The two of them had waved her over and now they’re sitting outside on a patch of grass by a tree, eating sandwiches and whatnot.
“And then wouldn’t you know it; one, two, three steps and a jump — boom! Touchdown” MG gestures an explosive motion with his hand, a big grin on his face.
“Didn’t happen if I didn’t see” Hope muses from the ground. She’s laying underneath the shadow of the tree, arms swung lazily behind her head, supporting it.
“You never show up to my games!”
“Exactly”
“Fake friend” MG mutters as he bites into his sandwich.
Josie shakes her head internally at the banter.
She hit it off with MG back in chemistry class: A story about accidentally setting fire to his shirt, a sprinkle of panic and a blast of a fire extinguisher. But even though her friendship with MG overlapped her friendship with Hope, it hadn’t occurred to her that the two of them even knew of each other until the middle of Junior year, rounding up to midterms, where she went to have a sesh with Hope only to find her already completely faded, laying down the floor with a hunched over MG slapping the floor next to her, the two of them laughing their asses off about strawberries — or was it cheesecake? She doesn’t quite remember.
Since then, whenever she hung out with either one of them, the other would occasionally tag along.
“Josie can attest to my football skills, because she actually shows up” MG waves his sandwich in her direction. “That’s true brotherhood”
Hope quirks an eyebrow. “Guess you’ve got one loyal fan, at least.”
“When I get famous one day, I won’t sign you an autograph”
Hope smiles too sweetly back up at him. “Oh, trust me, I’ll live without”
“Don’t be mean” Josie says, stabbing a fork into her pasta, pointing it at her. “MG’s actually pretty decent”. She’s been to enough of his games by now to know he isn’t bad, even if it’s hard to tell who’s who on the field with everyone wearing the same helmets. Still, she knows he scores a goal or two, and she thinks he’s number 21… maybe 24? She isn’t sure.
MG shrugs, looking modest but clearly proud. “Decent’s not really the word. I’ve got talent scouts looking at me.” He stretches back a little, arms wide. “College scholarship’s basically waiting for me.” He flashes them a smile.
“Hmm, yeah, sure,” Hope says, pausing like she’s about to add something, but then she sits up suddenly when MG doesn’t continue. “Wait—you're for real?”
Josie finds herself staring back at him too, surprised. She wonders if she’s been living under a rock or just not paying attention. Maybe he is number 21 then, she thinks she has seen him score more goals or runs faster or something. She doesn’t quite keep track.
MG sighs, dropping his shoulders. “Why do you two think I’m a complete loser”
“That’s amazing MG, didn’t know you had this whole future professional athlete vibe going on.” Josie grins, giving his shoulder a playful pat.
“Where?” Hope asks, clearly intrigued.
“Oh, nothing serious, just you know small ones here and there, the biggest one is probably…” He smiles sheepishly, and Josie catches a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. “Stanford“
“Stanford??” Josie exclaims. Maybe she should start keeping track. She’s kind of impressed now.
Hope whistles low. “Guess I’ll have to start taking you more seriously”
“Alright, alright, enough about me, ladies. What about you, Hope?” MG leans back, grinning. “You going to pack up and head off to some big college, or are you just going to keep doing your thing, no plans, no stress?”
Hope lifts an eyebrow, her gaze flicking from MG to Josie, clearly amused. She picks a daisy from the grass, fiddling with it before shrugging. “Who knows? I’m just going where I end up. Guess we’ll see.”
MG laughs, lighthearted. “Typical Hope. Always winging it.”
Josie watches Hope for a moment, her fingers stilling on her fork. There’s something about the way Hope says it, so nonchalant, as if life is just something that happens to her, and she’s fine with it. Maybe she is. Josie doesn’t know how Hope does it. Going wherever the wind takes her, never worrying too much about the next step. Josie has always envied that about her.
And yet, Josie can’t ignore the tiny flicker in Hope’s gaze when she’s not looking directly at them. It’s almost like Hope’s just a little too detached. A little too easy. Maybe just how she’s always been—untouchable in a way. But for a second, Josie wonders if it’s a little more than that. Maybe Hope’s not as sure of what’s coming as she lets on. Maybe she’s winging it, but she’s not exactly flying high.
The moment passes quickly, though. Hope turns her attention back to the daisy, twirling it between her fingers like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Her smile stays the same. Josie just watches her for another second, then drops her gaze to her plate, the unease sinking in her stomach again.
She tries not to let it show. Instead, she shrugs and forces a smile. “Yeah, sure. Winging it. That’s one way to do it.”
Hope doesn’t notice—or at least doesn’t comment. She just holds out the daisy, offering it to Josie. It’s a little worn from being twisted in her fingers, but the petals are still attached and bright.
Josie takes the flower, her fingers brushing over the delicate petals, and for a moment, she thinks it would be nice if time just stopped right now.
-
Two weeks later Ms. Tig holds Josie back after the end of English class. She’s worried about Josie; you’re usually so on top of your studies, and you never come late, is everything alright, is there anything I can do, she asks Josie, her hands resting on the desk, her head titled, a crease showing in her forehead.
Josie shrugs it off, it’s just stress, she says, then reassures, I’ll be back on track in no time.
Lizzie would probably blame it on the weed, lecture her about how it’s messing with her brain, how every day spent with Hope shaves a year off her own life from sheer stress. Josie knows it’s coming from a place of love—Lizzie always means well, even when it doesn’t sound like it. But she also knows that’s not really the problem
Truthfully, it’s because she can’t sleep. At night, she listens to the quiet pull of the wind outside her window. Her mind wandering in spirals, going on and on and on until she lands where she started, and her mind blanks and she feels suffocated. On these sleepless nights, she wishes to just be still.
Most of the time it is just a matter of time before she passes out from tiredness.
But once in a while she finds herself reaching for her phone.
Hope always picks up.
If the weather isn’t too cold, Josie grabs a jacket and her keys and sneaks out her window down the road and then some other roads until she arrives at the back door of the parcel house and they go up the attic, where a sloping hatch leads them up and they climb to the rooftop of the house. There they sit, blankets wrapped around them, a blunt burning, hazy gazes locked upon the universe above, so vast and so wide, its stars and the moon illuminating the night like jellyfish in an ocean. And in those moments, she feels like the two of them are just two tiny plankton, watching the world unfold.
-
“So MG’s really isn’t lying?” Hope asks her one day at the end of September while they’re sitting on the window ledge, two blankets and an ashtray between them.
“Lying about what?” Josie furrows her brow and pulls her blanket tighter around her shoulder. The weather’s chillier now and the days are getting shorter. Outside, the trees are starting to go from green to orange, the wind rustling the leaves every so often. It smells like rain mixed with musk from the wooden beams of the attic.
“You know, the whole, everyone’s offering me scholarships left and right thing because I’m America’s best football player. ”
Josie smiles to herself. Sometimes Hope would do that — bring up things from weeks ago that Josie thought were long forgotten. Like she had a remote control that could pause a moment, then continuing on whenever she felt like it.
“I mean the first time I met MG he was sent to the infirmary because he had tripped over a football. It was just there on the ground, and somehow he managed to trip over it.” Hope shakes her head. “I find it hard to believe he’s god at football now.”
Josie huffs a quiet laugh, tilting her head toward her. “You know you’re an awfully untrusting person Hope”.
Hope smirks. “I prefer realist.”
Josie rolls her eyes, stretching her legs out.
“You should come to the game on Friday,” She says after a beat.
Hope raises an eyebrow. “Not really into the whole ‘school spirit’ thing. Quite, the opposite actually — if you haven’t already noticed”
“I think he’d be happy to see you there.”
Hope doesn’t answer right away, just studies Josie for a moment, like she’s trying to read between the lines. Then, instead of responding, she reaches for the lighter and flicks it idly, watching the flame dance before snapping it shut again. “You’re going?”
Josie nods, absentmindedly tracing the pattern on her blanket. “Yeah. I mean, I usually do.”
Hope blows out smoke, leaning back against the window frame. “Guess I could make an appearance.”
It’s not exactly a commitment, but Josie smiles anyway. She doesn’t know why she wants Hope to come so badly, but the idea of sitting in the stands with her, watching MG run across the field, feels dear to her.
Hope nudges her knee with her own. “But if he trips over the ball, I’m gonna laugh.”
Josie snorts. “Fair.”
-
Hope actually shows up.
Josie’s sitting high up the bleachers trying to spot where number 21 is on the field when she appears, a bag of chips in one hand and two sodas in the other. She slides into the seat next to her with confidence and hands Josie one of the sodas.
“Hey, didn’t know what you wanted, so you’re gonna have to live with Orange” She grins at her.
She’s high, Josie can tell from the tinted red of her eyes and the slight delay to her words and the fact that the orange soda she hands her is actually a can of grape soda.
She takes the can and doesn’t correct Hope. “Orange it is” She says and Hope smiles, settling into her seat.
"How’s the game?" Hope asks, as though she’s just realizing what’s happening.
Josie chuckles. “MG’s doing alright. But you’re really here for the chips, aren’t you?”
Hope raises an eyebrow, opening the bag. “Maybe I am.”
Then with a curious glance at the field. “So what? Do they just play competitive catch?”
-
Mystic High takes the crown.
Hope must be in a good mood tonight, for she actually pays attention to the game after the first score, riding the goal highs as she claps along with the crowd, Josie cheering right beside her. When they finally see MG — now confirmed to be number 21 — running down the field, dodging players two times his size and outmaneuvering a tackle before taking the ball past the goal line, getting in a touchdown, Hope and Josie actually sit up from their seats and scream.
When the game ends and they go down to congratulate MG, he beams at the sight of Hope. Josie can’t help the smile that forms as she watches the two of them hug and playfully shove each other. They talk with him for quite a while before he gets pulled away by his team-mates into a victory group hug. He invites them to the after-party, which Josie considers — the night does feel eclectic after all — but Hope declines, says she’s tired and all.
They leave him then, saying their goodbyes as they walk away from the stadium towards the school gates.
There's a pause as they stand there, about to end the night and head in opposite directions.
Then Hope smiles and nods towards her place.
“Wanna go back to mine?”
-
That night, the music pulses louder than usual, a rock-type-beat spilling out and into the space between them. Hope pulls a few candles from the kitchen for the fun of it, flicking them to life with a match, the warm glow casting soft shadows in the room.
They’re sitting on the couch, passing the joint back and forth, bopping their heads to the music. Josie tries hitting the high notes of the chorus she doesn’t really know getting Hope to laugh. When Hope finally caves in and does her own impression of the lead-singer, she’s completely off-key and Josie chokes on the smoke.
At one point, the music glides into classical and Josie wonders just what kind of CD this is. She shifts on the couch, closer without even thinking about it, her knee brushes against Hope’s and neither of them pull away. She closes her eyes then, enjoying the violin, finally a quiet settling in the room as she realizes how heavy her eyes actually feel. But then the bridge turns into a guitar-riff and it catches her off-guard. Hope’s already laughing, and she’s not sure what’s so funny, but she laughs along.
The moonlight is hitting Hope just right, a glimmer across her face. Her already pale skin looks milky white in this lighting. There’s something peaceful about Hope like this, still coming down from the high of night. Her eyes twinkle, a faint spark lingering, and her smile lines deepen, making her look softer than usual—unsettling in the best way.
She’s about to say something when Hope looks over, then away.
"Her name’s Maya," Hope says over the music, her voice nonchalant. "She’s the one always riding that obnoxiously loud motorcycle around town."
Suddenly Josie’s eyes feel a lot lighter and the music suffocating.
She doesn’t ask about it. Hope probably doesn’t want her to.
So Josie doesn’t pry. The thought of it lasting long doesn’t even cross her mind.
-
Maya stays.
She’s one year older than Hope — two years older than Josie. She graduated last year and is taking a gap year now, spending her time fixing vehicles at the local auto repair shop, which her dad owns. She has a red motorcycle that leaves a screech everywhere it turns. She has big curly dark hair, deep brown eyes and a smile that ends in sharp corners.
Josie meets her at one of Jed’s parties.
Josie isn’t in the mood for going out that night, her desk filling up with the countless essays she needs to get to before the weekend is over, but Lizzie insists she come since it had been so long since the two of them had been out together — really though, it’s probably because Sebastian would turn up, and Lizzie never let a chance like that slip through her fingers. But Hope would be there too, so if she ever got tired of dancing around drunk, horny teenagers or engaging in awkward conversations, she figured they could retreat into Jed’s closet room together to light up a joint (How Jed has no clue this has happened multiple times before beats her).
So she dresses up, crop-top, simple pants and a warm sweater, a lighter in the pocket in case Hope forgets; which she never does and the red lighter has been used exactly zero times before, but precaution never hurt. They take a shot of vodka from their dad’s cabinet and then they head down the road where Jed lives.
The party is on full blast when they arrive, so much so that it seems like the house itself is actually bouncing up and down.
It doesn’t take long before Lizzie, as expected, disappears from her sight — probably off with Sebastian — leaving her to awkwardly sip on her own radioactive looking drink in the kitchen, squeezing herself into the corner amongst vaguely familiar looking faces.
That’s when she spots them.
They’re sitting on the armchair in the living room, barely fitting in it together. Hope is wearing an all-black outfit, her signature weathered leather jacket hugging her shoulders. The girl beside her is in a similar attire, with a deep blue denim jacket adorning her instead.
Josie’s first thought is that she’s pretty. Much prettier than Josie is.
Then, she thinks that Hope and her look good together.
Maya has her arm around Hope’s waist, laughing into her neck, her fingers playing with Hope’s long locks. Josie doesn't think she has ever seen such a wide smile on Hope’s face before, and she hates herself for wanting to wipe it off. For wanting to drown the sound of their laughter into the deep of the ocean.
She should leave. The party is not that fun anyways, she barely knows half of the people here and she won’t get to sneak off with Hope, not tonight a least. Lizzie won’t go home with her tonight either, she thinks. She should have never come, she—
And that’s when Hope spots her.
For a minute Josie feels frozen in place, sucked in by the stark blue of Hope’s eyes, the music and chatters of the party fading into the background. Hope always has this look in her eyes, as if she knows her every move with just a bare glance, stripping down all her walls, looking through every curve and edge of her being, to decipher what she’s thinking, how many beats per minute her heart runs, what she’s going to do next. It’s as if she sees her, in a way nobody else does. That not even Josie herself does.
It makes her self-conscious, makes the heat of her blood run to up her neck and then her ears.
It isn’t Hope that waves her over however.
Maya having followed Hope’s direction of gaze, seems to asks Hope who she is, before signaling for Josie to come over with a wave of her hand and a picture perfect smile on her face.
Josie takes a breath before approaching.
She finds that despite her intimidating look, Maya is easy to talk to. So they talk, about whatever strangers talk about to get to know each other, Hope adding to the conversation once in a while.
And Maya really is sweet. So sweet that by the end of the night, when Josie gets a little too drunk to walk in a straight line, her body hanging over the fence outside of the house, trying to puke, the girl soothes her back and asks her if she needs help to get home. Hope is there too, behind Maya, hands in her pockets, eyes on the ground.
Josie doesn’t remember how she actually gets home that night, but when she wakes up the next morning, she finds herself wrapped in a black leather jacket.
-
When Josie was younger, before the divorce, her mom used to throw these big dinner parties. The kind where the whole house smelled like rosemary and roasted garlic, and the good plates came out of the cabinet. She and Lizzie would get dressed up in matching dresses, their mom smoothing down their hair before the guests arrived.
Josie used to stay close to her mom’s side at first, listening in on conversations she didn’t fully understand, waiting for the moment her mom’s hand would find the small of her back, pulling her into the conversation.
But it never came.
Lizzie was better at it—stepping in, demanding attention, fitting herself into the space without needing an invitation. Their mom would always turn to her, laughing at some joke Josie hadn’t heard, hand resting on Lizzie’s shoulder like it belonged there.
So at some point, Josie stopped waiting. She’d slip away quietly, back to her room, kicking off her too-tight shoes and peeling off the dress she suddenly didn’t want to wear anymore. The laughter and clinking glasses would continue downstairs, carrying on without her, no one noticing her absence.
And that was fine. It always has been.
-
“Josie!”
She turns around to find the source of the voice and lands her eyes on MG sitting at a table outside, a sandwich in one hand, the other waving at her to come over.
She smiles back, a deep sigh: Lizzie had caught the flu over the weekend, leaving Josie to try find a place to eat lunch by herself in the chaos of the school the past few days. She had considered seeking out the old gym building, but wasn’t sure Hope would even be there. She hadn’t seen the girl much since she’s been with Maya. Especially not at school, which Hope already rarely attended prior. So she’s glad MG is here to save her from eating alone.
“What’s new?” Josie asks, as she sits down beside him, the bright sun shining so much she has to squint her eyes to see him.
“Other than getting detention for throwing a water bomb in Mr. Williams face, not much” MG says, a smug smile showing on his face.
Josie stares wide-eyed at him, her mouth open as she playfully hits his shoulder, laughter tumbling out of her. “You did not!”
“Sure did” He laughs with her.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” MG exclaims, taking a bite of his sandwich.
“I’ve been busy catching up to school, Ms. Tig has been bothering me non-stop about my grades”
“Say less, I’ve got my ass whooped for skipping classes the last few weeks”
They exchange stories about the recent updates in their lives, about family and friends and school gossip. And Josie thinks it’s nice to not just sit with Lizzie at lunch all the time, somehow thankful for the absence of her sister.
“Have you seen Hope recently?” MG asks at one point.
“Not much, have you?” She answers.
MG hums. “She’s been ditching me for her girlfriend, and here I thought she really was a bros before hoes kinda girl” He sighs. “But I’m not complaining, M’s pretty cool. She’s actually hosting a house-warming party on Saturday, said I could bring a guest, wanna come?”
It had been about one month since Josie met Maya; it’s the longest she knows of Hope seeing someone. Though she has yet to ask - and she probably won’t ask - when the two of them even started dating. Knowing Hope, it’s probably longer than Josie thinks. She hasn’t seen the brunette since then and Hope doesn’t mention her the few times they have seen each other since, it’s almost as if the girl doesn’t even exist, and Josie never prods. So it surprises her that MG is on nickname basis with her; that Hope has properly introduced her to him (what happened at Jed’s was more of an accident than an introduction); that the three of them had hung out together before. Her stomach clenches at the thought.
“I’ll think about it”
-
It’s Maya who opens the door when Josie and MG arrive to the apartment.
She has a lazy smile on her face as she pulls them both into a hug, shoving them inside the ongoing party and telling them to enjoy themselves. Josie feels oddly embarrassed about how anxious she had been on the ride here; after all, she wasn’t the one invited by Maya — she barely knows the girl. But she forgets for a moment that Maya is nice and chill and not at all awkward as she is. So she smiles, compliments the apartment and hands out a white vase she and MG picked out as a gift from a discount store and a pack of fancy beers her dad had left in the fridge — he isn’t gonna notice, Josie is sure.
It’s more of a casual hang-out than a party, people are sitting on the couch and chairs sharing glasses of wine and champagne as they chat, the music only loud enough to be a constant buzz in the back of her mind. It’s not at all like the parties she has gone to with blasted teenagers grinding to 2000’s music screaming and singing, puking into every corner they could find.
She and MG decide to sit down on the couch, greeting some of Maya’s friends. Maya herself is sitting at the kitchen counter, her high-pitched laughter sounding, as she clinks her glass with the people around her.
The people at the party are nice, in the way Maya is nice. They’re older than Josie, and carry themselves as if they have it all figured out. When they ask Josie about her time in school, they share meaningful glances at each other and laugh as they begin telling her about how it was when they went to high school, about how they missed those days, and coming with tips on how to survive senior year, making her feel like a child. Josie has the urge to remind them that they’re only two years older than her, but MG thrives in the attention, so she doesn’t bother, letting him talk as her own eyes drift around the room scanning for any sign of long auburn hair.
-
She finds Hope on the rooftop of the apartment complex.
She’s sitting on the ground, at the edge of the building, her feet would be dangling in the air if not for the fence blocking the way. She’s in the middle of rolling a cigarette when Josie walks towards her. For a moment, Josie thinks she sees surprise in the way her eyebrows raise, her lips parting in an ‘o’. But she doesn’t get to ponder upon it as Hope straightens her face into her usual neutral expression.
“Cigarette?” She offers her, as Josie sits down beside her, then almost sheepishly “I only have tobacco on me”.
Josie pauses, then shakes her head. “No, thank you”.
Hope shrugs, then tries lighting it up, but the wind is strong tonight, so Josie reaches out to cover the flame for her. Hope utters a small ‘thanks’ as she succeeds, before she brings the end of the cigarette to her lips, reeling in the smoke with a deep breath before pushing out in one firm line away from Josie.
“Not enjoying the party?” Hope asks her, after a while.
“Just getting some air”
Hope hums.
They sit there in quiet, as they often do. It’s a cold night and Josie is trying to cover up her fingers with the sleeves of her jacket. The chilly breaths she exhales mingles with the smoke from Hope’s lungs.
“I’m failing biology”
“Really?”.
“Yeah, and English and Math.. I think History too” Hope sighs “At this point I don’t know if I’ll even be able to graduate”
Josie gets the feeling that whatever she says now, it’s important. Hope rarely talks about school. Or herself for that matter. Whether she chooses to push or pull back, it’s important.
She settles on a decision when Hope straightens her posture and doesn’t meet her eyes.
“Well, what do you want to do if you graduate?”
A silence stretches out for bit as Hope taps her cigarette, letting the ash fall onto the ground in a dust rain.
“Probably be a teacher” Hope pauses, then with an almost unnoticeable quiver in her voice “Does it surprise you?”
She thinks of Hope, who always answers when Josie calls, who remembers that Josie likes walking on the left side of people rather than the right, who only talks fondly about kids, who always stand up for people that need it, even if her ways are unconventional. She thinks of 10 year old Hope, handing out an ice cream to soothe a lost child, of Hope who always says she doesn’t care but then follows Josie home at night, covering Josie with her jacket to make sure she’s not freezing. Hope, always more than she lets on to be.
“No. No it doesn’t surprise me. It makes sense, actually.”
There is a pause in the air as an unreadable expression forms in Hope’s face as they lock eyes.
Then, without any warning, Hope’s hand reaches out towards Josie’s face. The world stills for a moment as Josie is caught in a trance, her mind zoning in on the sensation of Hope’s icy fingers on her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. They sit there, just staring into each other, and for a second Josie feels like she sees Hope too.
Just Josie thinks the moment will end with Hope's cold fingers brushing back her hair behind her ear, Hope leans forward and presses her lips to Josie’s cheek. It’s barely there, just a graze of skin.
She thinks she spots a sheer of pink on Hope’s own cheeks when she pulls away.
“Thanks Josie”
Josie’s heart leaps.