Chapter Text
Natalie's room smells like stale beer and the cheap cigarettes her dad had left behind before dropping out. She's laying flat on her back, staring at the water stain on the ceiling that looked vaguely like a handgun if you squinted. Which she was. Squinting, She is. Definitely drunk.
Kevyn had dragged her to some shitty house party in the woods, but she couldn't complain too much. Free drinks were free drinks, and she'd made the most of it. Her phone buzzed on her chest.
Travis: Nat can you send? haven't seen you in awhile
She rolled her eyes hard enough to hurt. They'd seen each other three days ago, but Travis had a way of being needy when he was bored. Still, the buzz in her veins made her feel generous. Or reckless. Probably reckless.
She sat up, the room tilting slightly, and pulled her shirt over her head in one motion. The red bra underneath was nothing special but it would do. She shimmied her pajama bottoms down just enough, the waistband of her underwear visible in the frame, and held her phone up at an angle she'd perfected.
Click. She checked the photo. Good enough. Saved it to her camera roll.
Her phone buzzed again before she could pull up Travis's thread.
Lottie Matthews: math notes? :) pls
Natalie blinked at the screen. Lottie Matthews her soccer teammate who sits one row ahead in Calc II, she has never said more than "nice assist" to her in two years. Lottie's a Straight-A student who apparently can't do basic math, which made zero sense, but Van had mentioned it last week in the locker room. "Nat's like a math wizard, dude. You should ask her."
She shook her head and tugged her shirt back on, then pulled her pajama bottoms up. Her backpack was a crumpled heap on her floor. She dug through energy bar wrappers and a flask until she found her notebook, flipped to the section they'd covered that week, and snapped a photo of the problems.
She pulled up her messages, squinting at the screen. Lottie's name. Math notes. She attached the photo and hit send.
Done. She dropped the phone on her bed and flopped back down, closing her eyes. The ceiling spun a little less now. Maybe she'd actually sleep tonight.
Her phone buzzed twice in quick succession.
Travis: uh
Travis: did you mean to send me calculus?
Natalie frowned and picked up her phone.
Then her stomach dropped.
The thread with Travis showed a photo of her notebook, neat rows of equations and her surprisingly legible handwriting.
She scrolled up. No other photo.
She switched to Lottie's thread.
There it was.
Red bra. Pajama bottoms halfway down her hips.
"Oh, fuck."
She stared at the screen. The little "Read 11:47 PM" sat beneath the image like a tiny bomb.
Lottie had opened it.
Natalie pressed her face into her pillow and seriously considered transferring schools.
Natalie froze.
The photo sat there in the thread like evidence at a crime scene.
Her phone buzzed.
Lottie: um Nat
She stared at the screen. Her hands moved on their own, covering her face, pressing hard against her eyes like she could unsee this, undo this. Someone she didn't even talk to. Someone she'd written off as just another rich kid coasting through life. And now Lottie Matthews had a photo of her half naked and probably thought she was a complete slut.
Another notification.
Lottie: nat...?
Natalie laughed. Actually laughed, a sharp, slightly hysterical sound that echoed off her room walls. What the fuck was happening? This was insane. This was actually insane. She was drunk and stupid and had somehow managed to send an intimate photo to the one person on the soccer team she actively avoided, and now Lottie was texting her with question marks like she was waiting for an explanation Natalie absolutely did not have.
She stared at the two messages. At the photo. At the blinking cursor in the text box below.
She had no idea what to say.
Natalie pressed her face into her pillow and seriously considered transferring schools.
She picked up her phone with shaking hands. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. *Wrong person...* No. No, that's a stupid response and Lottie would know it was stupid. She deleted the half typed message before it could betray her any further.
She started again, each letter taking longer than it should because her brain was moving through weed and alcohol.
Natalie: fuck i didn't mean to send that to you
She hit send before she could overthink it, then immediately started typing again, her panic crystallizing into something more urgent.
Natalie: please just delete this from your memory and forget this ever happened.
Send.
She dropped the phone on her chest and stared at the ceiling, waiting. Her heart was doing something weird in her ribcage, too fast, too hard. The room felt smaller. Hotter.
"Fuck."
Her phone stayed silent.
Then her phone buzzed.
Natalie practically jumped for it, her drunk reflexes somehow still sharp enough to grab it before the second buzz.
Lottie: honestly Nat its fine
Natalie stared at the message. She waited for more... some explanation, some clarification, something... but the typing bubble never appeared. That was it. *Its fine.*
What the fuck did that even mean?
She typed without thinking, her thumbs moving faster than her brain could catch up.
Natalie: Lottie what does that even mean?
She sent it and immediately regretted it. Of course Lottie would take her time responding. Of course she would. Natalie rolled her eyes at the ceiling, at herself, at the entire situation. She'd sent a half naked photo to a girl she barely spoke to, and Lottie's response was *its fine* like they were discussing a missed homework assignment.
Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.
Lottie: i mean I'm not going to tell anyone or like make it weird. you're good
Natalie read it three times. Then four. The alcohol made the words swim a little, but the meaning was clear enough: Lottie wasn't going to weaponize this. Wasn't going to laugh about it. Wasn't going to make Natalie's life hell.
Which somehow made it worse, because now Natalie had to actually face her. At practice. Tomorrow. Or maybe Monday. Whenever soccer happened next.
She had no fucking idea how to behave around Lottie Matthews now.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lottie: but can you send me the notes now
Then another buzz.
Lottie: i honestly don't know how I'm gonna pass this test.
Natalie stared at her phone like it might spontaneously combust. Was Lottie seriously still texting her about homework? After the photo? Like they were just... normal? Like Natalie hadn't just accidentally sent her a half naked picture?
Her mind felt fuzzy and slow, the alcohol making everything feel slightly unreal. But the question was clear enough: Lottie wanted the notes. The actual notes. The ones Natalie had meant to send in the first place.
Natalie grabbed her phone and scrolled back to her camera roll, finding the picture of her math notebook. She sent it without typing anything else. What the hell was she supposed to say? *Sorry about the boob pic, here's your calculus*?
She set her phone down on her chest and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the next inevitable text. Her heart was still hammering, her skin still hot.
Her phone buzzed.
Lottie: thanks :)
Natalie rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. A smiley face. Of course Lottie would use a smiley face. Everything about her was so aggressively normal and polite, like she hadn't just received an unsolicited intimate photo from a girl she barely knew.
Natalie was about to put her phone down when it buzzed again.
Lottie: also you should send the photo to whoever you meant to send it to.
Natalie's heart stopped. Then started again, pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
What the fuck did that mean? Was Lottie being nice? Was she teasing her? Was she just... reminding her, like Natalie was too drunk to remember she had a boyfriend waiting for pictures?
Natalie stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She couldn't type anything back. Couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't make this worse.
Because the way Lottie had phrased it *whoever you meant to send it to* made it sound like she knew exactly what Natalie had been doing. Like she understood the whole situation perfectly. Like maybe she'd even thought about it for a second.
And that thought made Natalie's stomach twist in a way she didn't want to examine too closely.
Lottie was definitely messing with her or something. Natalie's fingers moved before her brain caught up.
Natalie: why would you say that?
She stared at the message, then at the three dots that appeared almost instantly. Lottie was already typing. Natalie's chest tightened.
Lottie: it's not a bad photo, Natalie
Natalie barely had time to process the words before her hands were moving again, typing faster than she could think.
Natalie: Lottie stop messing around.
The response came back just as quick.
Lottie: I'm not? you have a good body
Natalie froze. Her phone felt hot in her hands. She could feel the heat spreading up her neck, into her face, and lower- into her stomach, between her thighs. A twist of something she didn't want to name, didn't want to feel, especially not about Lottie Matthews of all people.
She tried to make it stop. Tried to think of something sarcastic or cutting to say back. But her mind kept circling back to one question: had Lottie actually looked? Had she really taken a moment to study the photo, to think about Natalie's body?
Of course she had. Natalie had sent it to her. What did she expect?
But that wasn't the same thing. That wasn't the same as Lottie choosing to look, choosing to notice, choosing to say something about it.
Natalie stared at her phone, her thumb hovering uselessly over the keyboard. She couldn't tell if Lottie was messing with her or just stating a fact. Couldn't tell if this was some kind of game or if Lottie actually meant it. And the worst part- the part that made her stomach twist all over again, was that she wasn't sure which answer she wanted to be true.
Natalie: shut up
Natalie's didn't know why her brain could only conjure the words she just typed.
She was tired. Confused. Drunk in a way that made everything feel too close and too far away at the same time. She needed to sleep, not sit here spiraling about Lottie Matthews of all fucking people, not think about whether Lottie had really *looked* at the photo or if she was just being nice or if-
Her phone buzzed.
Lottie: will do! goodnight Natalie
Natalie rolled her eyes at the awkward cheerfulness of it, at the way Lottie added her name like they were friends texting goodnight, like they did this all the time. But underneath the eye roll was a wave of relief so strong it almost made her dizzy. The conversation was over. Lottie wasn't going to keep pushing, wasn't going to say anything else that would make Natalie's skin feel too tight.
She typed back before she could overthink it:
Natalie: night
And then she set her phone down on her nightstand, turned away from it like it might bite her, and pulled her blanket up to her chin. The room spun a little- the alcohol, the exhaustion, the sheer absurdity of the night catching up with her all at once.
She fell asleep almost immediately, her dreams a confused tangle of soccer fields and red bras and Lottie's voice saying "you have a good body" over and over again.