Author's Note: My first R/J fic in a long, long time ^^ I've been writing it on and off for a while at work, and thought it was about time I published it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Taggart, Robbie or Jackie.
She's shy. Quiet. Ultimately hesitant with a diminutive stature that further exacerbates her mousy demeanour. Seventeen years old and dowdy in a sense, although she has dressed for the occasion in a beautiful blue dress that does not quite succeed in its intended flattery but rather draws the eye to her distinct lack of curves and boyish figure.
She stands alone in the far right of the gymnasium in the narrow space between the wall and the tiered seating wringing her slender hands together in a nervous manner yet one which is ultimately endearing. She is unsure of why she has remained where he left her, but still she awaits his return to her.
It is the annual Notre Dame High School Christmas dance, an extravagant affair consisting primarily of a handful of injured decorations that undoubtedly date back to her parents' days as students, and a myriad of punch bowls that every year without fail, some will fill with a half bottle of Vodka. It has become somewhat of a tradition.
She searches the gymnasium which on Friday mornings doubles as an assembly hall from beneath the cover of thick, unruly brown hair. She is vastly fond of her hair despite its small corkscrew curls and frizzy texture as she feels that it allows her to hide in a way.
Her hair offers a miniscule source of comfort, something that is becoming increasingly rare for her these days.
She does not see him, although she didn't expect to. She knows that he will be in the car park behind the school sharing a bottle of Jack Daniel's or Buckfast with his friends whilst discussing uninhibitedly their female classmates and the various obscene things they wished to do with them. She has heard what they say about her and her best friend Gemma, but she doesn't let it bother her.
Nothing particularly bothers her. Not on the surface, at least. Shy as she may be she is certainly an expert at donning a smile and pretending for his sake that she is alright. He does not need to know that the smile that lights up her entire face and that he claims to love wilts when she leaves his company, or that sometimes she bites down on the inside of her lip to keep herself from breaking down and telling him everything.
Some things are just better left unsaid.
When she next looks some time later she catches sight of him entering the gym hall. Their eyes meet and without a single moments hesitation he makes a beeline towards her breaking away from his companions, members of the school's hockey and basketball team. Likewise, he is a defender on the football team, a position that has earned him a considerable amount of respect amongst his peers, but one which has gained him little popularity.
She is unaware that he has turned down each and every social gathering merely to spend time with her.
He moves somewhat ungainly and it is evident that he has drunk substantially this evening. "You're still here, Jacks? I thought you would have gone home by now," he states as he leans in to kiss the side of her head.
This gratuitous sign of affection temporarily takes her by surprise. He is certainly not at all apt to freely expressing his feelings she thinks as she takes a step back and catches the strong scent of bourbon on his breath.
"You're supposed to be giving me a lift home," she reminds him. "Although, I doubt you could walk in a straight line let alone drive." It is twenty miles to Garsden and she wonders what she is going to do this evening.
He is silent and sits on one of the benches where he looks her up and down in an oddly scrutinizing manner and, while she stands before him shyly rubbing her forearm she wonders what he is thinking. She is neither beautiful nor ugly; she is in fact rather plain. Five foot three barefoot she stands almost a full head shorter than the smallest of her classmates; dark waves and expressive brown eyes but she has too many flaws for her to be classified as pretty.
"You look good tonight," he tells her flatly and meets her gaze. His voice is a monotone and he does not smile and she can not help but wonder if there is something on his mind, but his dark eyes light up and in a way they say more than any words can.
Subconsciously she smoothes down a crease on her deep purple dress and tucks a flyaway strand behind her ear. Upon first laying eyes on it she had thought that the dress with its formidable beauty would allow her one night to feel utterly spectacular, to finally catch his attention, but the final effect is vastly difference. She feels little more than silly and frivolous.
"Thank you, Robbie."
Tentatively, she steps out from her spot by the wall and walks around him careful not to trip on the hem of her long dress the hem of which trails lightly on the ground and sits beside him with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She studies him intently observing his softly tanned skin and unkempt brown hair that falls into a set of dark eyes that if she had less self control she could easily become lost in.
When he finally turns to face her she again catches the scent of alcohol mingling with that of his aftershave and there is a long moment in which she is struck by the overwhelming urge to just throw caution to the wind and kiss him.
She wants, or rather needs, to pour every single pent up feelings, every unspoken thought, ever glance and hastily spoken remark that could have been, should have been something more into the kiss.
This irrational and wholly uncharacteristic notion however, is short lived and is replaced with a feeling of confusion as at that precise moment he pulls himself to his feet and turns back to her smoothing down a crease on his somewhat crumpled suit. She stares up at him in a quizzical manner when he extends a hand to her and offers her that lopsided smile that she has come to love so much.
"Well? Are you just going to leave me standing here? How about a dance, Jacks?"
Thank you for reading ^^