Chapter Text
Jackie’s room looked perfect at first glance. Bed made, perfume bottles lined neatly on the vanity, framed photos of soccer tournaments and beach trips in their places. A Monet print of Water Lilies hung above her desk, flanked by a ballerina in a gilt frame.
Everything symmetrical, coordinated, just so. The kind of order her mom insisted on.
But the chair by her desk told the truth. A heap of discarded shirts, a skirt draped halfway across the back, her closet door still hanging open.
Jackie stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the top she had on now, turning sideways, frowning, then straightening again. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the way she looked. She always looked fine. It was that fine didn’t feel like enough. Not tonight.
“You’re gonna run out of hangers,” Molly said from the bed. She was curled up cross-legged on Jackie’s comforter, chin propped in her hands like she was watching a show. Sixth grade clung to her in a hundred ways. Braces flashing when she smirked, glitter polish chipped on her nails, a puff-painted T-shirt she’d made at camp, but her eyes stayed glued on Jackie, big and admiring and just a little amused.
Jackie groaned, holding a blouse against her front, then tossing it onto the chair. “Nothing looks right.”
“Everything looks right on you,” Molly said simply. “That’s kind of your thing.”
Jackie shot her a look, but Molly just shrugged, unfazed.
“I mean, you’re going to the fair,” she added. “You don’t need to look like you’re going to prom. You need, like—” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “Fun cute. Not serious cute.”
Jackie turned back to the mirror, biting the inside of her lip. Fun cute. Serious cute. How was she supposed to know the difference when her stomach wouldn’t stop flipping every time she thought about Melissa?
She tugged on another skirt, then peeled it off immediately. “This is stupid.”
“No, what’s stupid is how long you’ve been standing there,” Molly said. She hopped off the bed, picked up the blue sweater from the chair, and hugged it to her chest like she might rescue it. “Why are you even nervous? It’s just the fair.”
Jackie hesitated, shirt half-on, half-off. She wasn’t about to explain the way her heart skipped whenever Melissa’s blue eyes locked with hers, or how she couldn’t stop replaying the sound of her laugh, warm and unguarded. She wasn’t about to admit she noticed the little things. How Melissa twirled her pencil when she was thinking in class, or how she chewed her straw at lunch without realizing it. She wasn’t about to say that the fair wasn’t just the fair anymore. Not with Melissa.
“It’s not the fair,” Jackie muttered. “It’s… who I’m going with.”
Molly’s eyes lit up, the way they always did when she thought she’d caught Jackie in a confession. “Melissa,” she sing-songed.
Jackie’s cheeks went hot. “Shut up.”
Molly flopped back onto the bed, hair fanning against the pillows. “You like her.”
Jackie pulled her hair back in front of the mirror, trying to will the blush away. “I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to,” Molly said matter-of-factly, like she was pointing out the sky was blue.
Jackie grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it. Molly squealed and ducked, laughing even harder.
For a moment, the perfect bedroom didn’t feel so suffocating. It felt alive.
By the time Jackie finally settled on a lavender cardigan layered over an ivory cami, tucked into her best pair of Gap light wash jeans, the chair had vanished beneath a landslide of discarded outfits. Except it wasn’t really Jackie who’d chosen it. Molly had hopped off the bed, sifted through the pile with exaggerated sighs, and plucked out the jeans and cardigan like she’d known all along.
“Here,” she said, tossing them onto Jackie’s lap. “Trust me.”
Jackie had almost laughed, trust her sixth-grade sister?—but when she slipped them on and checked the mirror, her breath caught. Somehow, against all odds, Molly had been right.
Molly tilted her head, surveying her handiwork like a stylist. “That’s it. That’s the one. Fun cute.”
Jackie smoothed her hair in the mirror, lips twitching despite herself. “Thanks, Mol.”
“Anytime,” her sister said, smug. “Now you just have to not freak out the whole time you’re with her.”
Jackie rolled her eyes, but the words dug under her skin. Don’t freak out. Right. Easy.
Molly hopped off the bed and headed for the door, pausing just long enough to grin over her shoulder. “Good luck, Jackie.” Then she was gone, leaving the room quiet.
Jackie sighed and flopped back on the bed. Her gaze drifted to the vanity. She sat up, leaned close to the mirror, and whispered under her breath, “Girlfriend.”
The word startled her, even in her own voice. She grabbed a pillow and pressed it over her face, muffling a laugh that bubbled out anyway. Her cheeks burned like she’d been caught.
Melissa Greer’s bedroom looked like it had grown up unevenly around her. Chaos in one corner, careful intention in another, like two different versions of her had been at war and never settled the score.
The music corner loomed on the opposite wall — a cassette rack only half-full, milk crates of vinyl perched on speakers that hadn’t worked in years, the tape deck plastered in stickers.
Lavender sachets her mom had snuck into the drawers clashed with the musk of her soccer bag, threaded through with the low thrum of her own alpha scent.
She sat cross-legged on the carpet, the Magic 8-Ball rolling between her palms. Soup, her fat orange tabby, had claimed a spot on the bed beside Gen, tail flicking lazily as Gen flipped through a copy of Sassy. MTV VJ hosts Idalis and Simon Rex were splashed across the cover, bold print: Think You’re Fat?, Mondo Makeovers, and A Quiz: Are Your Emotions Making You Mental?
Gen dreamily sighed. “Simon Rex is so hot.” She glanced up from the magazine, raising a brow. “You’re wound up.” She reached down to scratch Soup behind the ears.
Melissa groaned, flopping back against the side of the bed. The Magic 8-Ball rolled out of her lap and thudded onto the carpet. “It’s—Jackie.”
Gen shut the magazine with a flick of her wrist. “You’ve been bouncing around all week. Tonight’s the fair. And you’re finally gonna do it.”
It had been a month since she and Jackie had started spending time together outside of school. After their first date at the Crescent Theatre — just the two of them in the dark. Since then, it was sodas wandering the mall, sitting on Jackie’s porch steps until curfew. Late-night calls that stretched past midnight. Little things. Enough to feel like something real, even if they hadn’t said the word yet.
Melissa picked up the Magic 8-Ball again, giving it another shake, like maybe this time it’d tell her something different. But the words floated up the same: Yes. Definitely. She sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. “I want to. I mean, we’ve been… you know.”
“Seeing each other.”
Melissa’s cheeks warmed. “Yeah. But we haven’t said it yet.”
Gen’s smirk softened. “Girlfriends.”
The word cracked open something in Melissa’s chest. She tried to laugh it off, but her voice came out quiet instead. “Yeah. I want to ask her tonight. On the Ferris wheel. Top of the world, lights all around. I’ll ask her up there.”
For a second, the room was silent except for a rerun of Beavis and Butt-Head murmuring low on the squat TV that sat on Melissa’s desk. The desk itself was its own battlefield: soccer cleats shoved underneath, half-empty Gatorade bottles sweating, a Walkman tangled in its own headphone cord. A leaning stack of books claimed the far corner — Catcher in the Rye, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, On the Road, and a tattered paperback of Fahrenheit 451 with the cover half-torn. A notebook sat open among them, filled with song lyrics she’d scribbled and never finished.
Gen grinned, warm and approving. “That’s romantic, Mel. Jackie’s gonna love it.”
Melissa’s eyes snagged on the books while Gen slid off the bed, grabbing her bag.
“I’ll let you get ready,” Gen said, voice easy. “Don’t overthink it, okay?”
Melissa let out a groan, pressing her hands over her face. “God, I’m gonna mess this up.”
Soup yawned like he agreed, rolling onto his back.
“Not if you just tell her the truth. You like her. You want her to be your girlfriend. That’s all it takes.” Gen patted Melissa’s shoulder, gave Soup a head scratch, and walked out of the room.
Melissa tilted her head back, staring at the faded glow stars still clinging to her ceiling. She let herself picture it: Jackie at the top of the Ferris wheel, smile lit by the midway glow, eyes bright as Melissa asked the question out loud.
Her heart hammered, but she couldn’t stop smiling.
Melissa shook the Magic 8-Ball. The dark blue liquid swirled. The white plastic die pressed against the little window.
Will she say yes?
Melissa swallowed, then turned it over.
It is certain.
She let herself picture the fair again: Jackie beside her at the top of the Ferris wheel, the word girlfriend finally real.
Tonight, she was going to do it.
Melissa pulled up to the curb in a wood-paneled Country Squire station wagon, the kind of car that felt older than she was. Her mom had passed it down when her parents bought something newer, sleeker. The wagon carried years of gentle wear and tear, upholstery gone soft at the seams, a faint coffee stain on the carpet from when Melissa had knocked her mom’s thermos over, the smell of drugstore perfume that never fully faded. Fuzzy dice dangled from the rearview mirror, leftovers from her mom, while the backseat was cluttered with Melissa’s own stuff. A soccer ball rolling under the bench, cassette tapes scattered in the cup holder, and a thrift-store flannel she kept for late nights. It had become hers and Jackie’s without either of them saying it, wrapped around both of them more than once.
The car idled at the curb, headlights pooling against the street. Melissa drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, nerves buzzing through her chest.
Tonight was the night. She was going to ask Jackie Taylor to be her girlfriend. The thought tightened her stomach, but it made her grin too.
She got out of the car and walked up the stone pathway. Her nerves doubled, because every time she saw Jackie it felt like seeing her for the first time. She was still in awe that she and Jackie were dating.
She pressed the doorbell and took a breath, bracing herself for one of Jackie’s parents.
On the other side of the door, she heard: “I got it.”
Molly.
She opened the door, her braces flashing when she smiled. Melissa blinked, because yeah—she could see it. Not exactly Jackie, but close enough that it felt like looking at her through a time warp.
Melissa’s grin widened. “You must be Molly. Jackie talks about you sometimes. Says you’re a pretty cool little sister.”
Molly’s eyes lit up at that, like the compliment she had been waiting for. “She said that?”
“Swear,” Melissa said.
Molly puffed up a little, proud. “She’s upstairs. I had to help her pick out an outfit.” She smiled like it was her greatest contribution.
Melissa stepped inside and closed the door. “You could’ve helped me.” She motioned to her own clothes.
“You look cool,” Molly said with casual authority, like she’d already decided it was a fact. Her gaze flicked up to Melissa’s backwards pink cap. “I like your hat. Jackie didn’t tell me you wore yours like that. That’s cool.”
Melissa blinked, a little thrown but smiling. “Uh, thanks.”
“So… did you pick out something good?” Melissa asked, trying for small talk.
“Of course,” Molly said seriously. “Jackie changes her mind a hundred times. Someone had to step in.”
Melissa grinned, warmer now. She couldn’t help noticing the resemblance. Molly wasn’t exactly Jackie, but there was something in the shape of her eyes, the tilt of her smile. It was like seeing Jackie at a younger age, all puff-painted shirts and braces, but still with that same spark.
Molly leaned in a little, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She was really nervous.”
Melissa’s chest squeezed, her grin softening. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Me too.”
Molly looked satisfied with that answer. Then she turned toward the stairs, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Jackie! Melissa is here!”
Jackie heard Molly calling for her. A pull of nervous excitement tightened her stomach. She took one last look in her bedroom mirror, smoothing the lavender cardigan over her cami, tugging the hem of her Gap jeans. For once, she didn’t second-guess it. Satisfied, she turned and headed for the stairs.
Murmurs drifted up from the foyer. Melissa’s voice. Molly’s laugh. Jackie’s pulse quickened.
Melissa looked up the moment Jackie stepped into view, her blue eyes widening like she’d been caught off guard. That look on her face, open, unguarded, like Jackie was the only one in the room, made Jackie’s heart squeeze so tightly she nearly missed a step. She smiled, warm and bright, because she couldn’t not.
Jackie loved Melissa’s effortless tomboy style. The backwards pink cap tugged low, the worn jean jacket with fraying cuffs, sneakers scuffed. Somehow, on Melissa, it all looked perfect.
“You look really nice,” Jackie said, reaching out without thinking, fixing the collar of Melissa’s jacket where it had turned.
“You’re beautiful.” Melissa’s voice was soft, almost reverent, and it sent heat straight to Jackie’s cheeks.
Jackie ducked her head, blushing. “Molly did a really great job.”
“Yeah, she did,” Melissa said, grinning.
From the bottom step, Molly puffed up proudly, chin lifted. “Yup. I did.”
Both girls laughed, the sound loosening Jackie’s nerves a little.
“You ready to go?” Melissa asked, hope sparking in her eyes.
Jackie hesitated, twisting her mouth. “My parents decided tonight would be the perfect time to meet you.”
The shift in Melissa’s posture was instant. Shoulders stiff, spine straight, like someone had flipped a switch.
Jackie squeezed her hand, lacing their fingers together. “It’ll be okay. They’re harmless. Embarrassing sometimes, but harmless. It’ll take like a second, and then we’re out of here.” She rolled her eyes in emphasis, trying to coax Melissa back into ease.
Melissa swallowed hard, throat working, but nodded.
“Come on.” Jackie tugged her gently, leading her down the hall with Molly trailing behind like a proud little herald. They passed the kitchen, where the scent of roasted chicken hung heavy in the air.
From the living room came the low, steady drone of Dan Rather’s voice from the evening news. Jackie’s dad sat in his usual armchair, the paper folded on the side table, while her mom perched neatly on the couch, posture perfect. They could have been cut straight out of a Banana Republic ad, timeless and pressed.
Jackie straightened, forcing her smile. “Mom, Dad, this is Melissa.”
Her heart thudded. She grinned internally, please, please don’t embarrass me.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor.” Her grip on Jackie’s hand tightened.
The Taylors’ living room looked like it had been staged for a magazine spread. Cream carpet that showed no stains, polished wood tables gleaming under the lamplight, a vase of fresh flowers perched just so in the center. Family photos were framed in gold and silver, everyone smiling in coordinated outfits on beaches and ski slopes. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor themselves looked like they belonged to an exclusive country club, perfect hair, pressed clothes, the kind of elegance that made Melissa suddenly aware of the scuff on her sneakers and the frayed cuff of her jean jacket.
Meredith smiled, smooth and polite. “It’s finally nice to put a face to the name of the young lady who has been taking Jackie out.”
Melissa nodded, heat creeping up her neck. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just smiled awkwardly.
James lowered the volume of the evening news with the remote. His voice was firm, measured. “Melissa.” His eyes flicked down at her fingers laced with Jackie’s, holding there for a beat before meeting her gaze again. “You’re taking Jackie to the fair.”
Melissa nodded quickly, her stomach flipping, even though of course that had been the plan. She glanced at Jackie for confirmation anyway.
“The fair means the fair. Nowhere else, understood?” He sat up straighter as he said it, like the words carried weight.
“Yes, Mr. Taylor.”
“Dad,” Jackie groaned, rolling her eyes in a pouty, irritated way.
Mrs. Taylor’s tone was warmer, but no less firm. “And curfew is 11.”
“11,” Mr. Taylor echoed. “Not 11:05 or 11:30.”
Melissa’s throat worked. “Yes, 11.” She nodded again, like she was agreeing to terms of a contract.
“Okay, bye. Great, thanks.” Jackie tugged Melissa out of the living room before her dad could say anything else. The volume of the TV clicked back up behind them, Dan Rather’s voice filling the space again.
She grabbed her jacket on the way out. Once they were outside, Jackie let out a sigh of relief. “See? Harmless.”
Melissa laughed, though it came out a little shaky. “Yeah. Harmless. Took about twenty years off my life.”
“They treat me like I’m still a little kid.” Jackie’s voice softened, and Melissa could feel her frustration flickering just under the surface.
“Wait until you meet my parents.” Melissa grinned, thinking how soon she wanted to introduce Jackie to her family, if Jackie said yes to being her girlfriend.
Jackie’s eyes lit up, her smile matching Melissa’s.
They walked down the stone pathway together, arms brushing, fingers still laced. Jackie gave her hand a squeeze, and Melissa’s nerves finally melted into something lighter.
When they reached the station wagon, Melissa tugged at the passenger side door, giving it her usual firm pull. Except tonight her nerves made her fumble it twice before it finally gave way with a reluctant groan. Jackie’s sweet, unrestrained laugh spilled out, cutting through Melissa’s tension like sunlight. She couldn’t help laughing too, cheeks burning, but the sound of Jackie’s laughter settled something in her chest, loosening all the knots.
The Country Squire rumbled down Jackie’s street, its old engine loud in the quiet of suburbia. Porch lights glowed against the deepening dark, each one a blur as they passed, like fireflies caught and gone again.
Jackie sat angled toward Melissa, chin propped on her hand. Her cheeks were still pink, though now it was from laughter she was trying to hold back.
“They’ll put a search party together at exactly 11,” Melissa added wryly.
Jackie leaned over and kissed her cheek, quick but sure. “Well, just have me home by 10:59.”
Melissa’s grip tightened on the steering wheel for a beat. Jackie saw it, felt the shift, and her smile deepened. She liked having that effect on her.
Melissa nervously fiddled with the dial until the speakers crackled, then settled on Smashing Pumpkins. 1979.
The song poured out low, the kind of dreamy, sprawling sound that seemed to stretch time thin, until the moment felt bigger than it was. Guitars hazy, Billy Corgan’s voice weaving through the night like it already belonged to memory.
“I love this song.” Melissa turned the volume up just enough to float above the hum of the engine.
Jackie let her eyes drift shut for a second, just listening. It was the kind of song that lived in the background but made everything feel like a scene. The kind of song she knew she’d hear years from now, when she was an adult with kids of her own, hopefully with Melissa, and it would take her back in an instant. To the fall of 1996.
Back to nights like this. Back to the smell of funnel cake and kettle corn at the fair, the taste of cherry Lip Smackers stolen from a friend’s backpack, the endless hum of dial-up internet connecting in the background of someone’s den. All of it knotted up with Melissa’s blue eyes, and the backwards pink cap, and the ache of first love.
For now, though, she was a teenager. And she was with a girl she really liked.
Jackie slid her hand up, resting it on the back of Melissa’s neck, brushing her thumb tenderly where skin met hairline.
Melissa startled, just a flicker, a tiny hitch in her breath,but then she melted into the touch, her shoulders loosening, her grip on the wheel softening. Jackie smiled faintly, keeping her hand there, as if anchoring them both in the moment.
The fair hit them all at once, the lights, the noise, the music, the flashing of rides, the bark of vendors trying to draw people into games of chance and skill, and the scent of fried dough and popcorn wafting through the air. The whole midway pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own. And if you looked long enough, the archway at the entrance, spelling MIDWAY in large letters lit with colorful bulbs, seemed to throb with it.
Jackie and Melissa barely noticed. They walked side by side, fingers laced, caught in the quiet of their own bubble. Jackie’s thumb traced small circles against Melissa’s knuckles; Melissa glanced over and found her smiling, the midway lights sparking in her hazel eyes.
“It’s kind of magical,” Jackie said softly, almost like it was just for Melissa.
Melissa swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Definitely magical.” She wasn’t even looking at the Ferris wheel towering in the distance. Just at Jackie.
Melissa couldn’t stop staring. The lights accentuated every part of her, catching in her hair, throwing her cheekbones into gentle relief. Everything else blurred into background noise, the crowd, the vendors, the rides. Jackie was the only thing in focus. Her hazel eyes warm and shining. The way her lips curled into a smile, soft and bright at once. And then, when she laughed, her nose scrunched in the smallest way, Melissa thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Melissa leaned in and kissed her, soft and gentle. A sweet kiss for a sweet moment. Jackie’s breath hitched, but then she kissed Melissa back with the same gentleness, and Melissa swore her heart skipped.
This wasn’t the moment. The Ferris wheel loomed in the distance, majestic the way it had been when Melissa was a kid and her parents brought her, Renee and Danny. It had always looked so big, mesmerizing and bright. And now, standing here with Jackie’s hand in hers, she had that same feeling again.
“Hey,” Melissa said softly, easing back into the sounds around them, laughter, screams from rides, the glow of lights, the rich mix of scents from food stands.
“Hey,” Jackie said, squeezing her hand.
“The first thing we need to do is get in line for the Tunnel of Love.” Melissa’s tone was teasing, but Jackie laughed, eyes sparking.
“Okay, Romeo.” She rolled her eyes, but it was warm.
“I guess that makes you my Juliet?”
“It does. But without the tragic ending.”
Melissa spoke before she thought. “No ending.”
She saw something flicker in Jackie’s eyes at that, something that made Melissa feel the words had landed exactly the way she hoped.
“Okay, so the first thing we need to do if the Tunnel of Love is out—”
“I didn’t say it was out,” Jackie cut in, playful.
Melissa grinned. “The first thing to do at the fair is get a funnel cake.” She started walking backwards, tugging Jackie along by the hand.
“Really?” Jackie raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. That’s fair etiquette 101.”
“Or maybe you just want a funnel cake.” Jackie laughed, warmth in her eyes.
“Okay, I do.” Melissa held up her free hand in surrender, grinning. She nearly tripped over her own feet, heat rushing to her face.
“Yeah, no more walking backwards for you.”
“I think you’re right. I’m a safety hazard.” She fell back into step beside Jackie, hands stuffed in her denim jacket pockets. Jackie looped her arm through Melissa’s, tugging her close until their shoulders brushed with every step.
The midway pressed in all around them, kids shrieking as they darted between rides, the neon lights blinking like stars that had lost their constellations, music clashing from different speakers overhead, but Melissa barely noticed any of it. Jackie was the only clear thing in focus. Her hazel eyes, her soft smile, the way she leaned in without even thinking, like she belonged there.
Melissa glanced down at her and felt her chest pull tight. Funnel cake first, then the rest of the night, she thought. She didn’t care about the order, not really. She’d go on every ride, eat every snack, throw every dart if Jackie asked her to. The only thing that mattered was Jackie’s hand in hers, warm and steady, grounding her in the middle of all the noise.
At the far end of the midway, the Ferris wheel spun slow and sure, lights rippling against the dark. Melissa’s heart kicked hard in her chest. She wasn’t ready for that moment yet, but she would be.
She let Jackie’s arm rest snug against her own, smiling to herself. Tonight already felt like the beginning of everything.