A/N: So, I love the movie "Grease". I love Rizzo and Kenicke (far more than Danny and Sandy, I'm sorry to say). I thought this up the other day. I hope you enjoy it.
Rizzo sighed as she stared up at her blank ceiling, tracing a thin crack with her eyes and thinking
Rizzo sighed as she stared up at her blank ceiling, tracing a thin crack with her eyes and thinking. Her stomach grumbled and it took her slightly by surprise. When had been the last time she ate? She dimly recalled having lunch yesterday, but the memory of questionable meatloaf vanished and was replaced by one of Kenicke taking a bite of an apple during homeroom that morning.
She was being absolutely ridiculous.
He was just Kenicke.
The same stupid Kenicke she had known since… she narrowed her eyes in thought and remembered the first day of seventh grade. That had been when she had met him, she thought. She could not entirely recall meeting Kenicke. He had been a part of her group of friends for some time, but he had seemed to be more a part of the background than anything until this year.
Rizzo shakily reached for the lit cigarette in the tray next to her elbow. She inhaled and blew a cloud of smoke. She set the cigarette down again and tried to steady herself.
Things had certainly changed the night of Frenchy's sleepover party. Being shot down by Danny Zucco had been hard at first, until Kenicke had smiled at her. She could not pin down what had been different about his crooked grin that night, but it had been enough to entice her into his car. She initially wrote it off as a side effect of too many Twinkies with wine.
His kisses had been feverish yet somehow sweet, she remembered. Rizzo had been taken aback by his clumsiness at first, yet it quickly became endearing. She had long presumed Kenicke to have lost his virginity, but he had said something that had made her wonder: "I bought it in seventh grade." Had he had no reason to use it before then? Or had it simply lain dormant in his wallet, waiting for a night when the girl had not been prepared?
She exhaled heavily and rolled onto her stomach. She took a large gulp of water from the glass on her nightstand and closed her eyes. How could he be getting to her like this? She had been with several boys before, but none of them had lingered like Kenicke. Sometimes it felt like his fingers were still tangled in her hair and his hot breath was on her neck.
What was this feeling? She felt strange whenever she saw him, whenever he brushed past her in the hall. They had met up a few times since that night, and strange things were happening. She found herself scanning the people around her more than once in hopes of spotting Kenicke. She lingered, fumbling with her keys in the parking lot just a little longer than usual after school.
Rizzo steeled her nerves, knowing she could not let this feeling get too strong a grip on her. Her mother had been overcome with these feelings when she had met John Rizzo, and now she was left with one daughter and three jobs. Rizzo refused to be reduced to a meek spinster who waited in the living room each night, hoping maybe he would walk through the door.
She quickly dressed and checked herself over in the mirror. She appeared no different than any other day, which was what she wanted. He certainly didn't need to think she was dressing up on his account. She did, however, spritz a little puff of perfume onto her neck and checked her lipstick twice.
The car ride to school seemed to drag slightly. French was out with the cold, Jan was walking with Putzy these days, and Sandy was spending a lot of time with Zuc. Rizzo tisked herself when she caught herself looking in the rearview mirror for Kenicke's hunk of junk. She was still chiding herself when she pulled into the parking lot and stepped out of her pink car.
The morning air was a bit chillier than she had expected. She turned to grab her purse and her Pink Ladies jacket—only to find her jacket had been left at home. She could picture it in her room, tossed haphazardly on her desk or hanging off the corner of her bed. "Shit," she muttered.
"Lookin' for somethin', Rizz?"
She fought back an outright smile, forcing it into a small, sarcastic grin. She turned to look Kenicke in the face and shrugged. Her heart fluttered slightly, and she mentally kicked herself. "Nothin' important."
He smirked and ran a pair of fingers through the hair behind his ear. "Really? Looks like you're cold."
Rizzo shrugged again and thought desperately for a way to turn the conversation around. She did not like this onslaught of attention—she wasn't sure she could trust it. Yet it was hard to look away from Kenicke, standing there in his leather jacket, jeans, boots, and a light blue shirt. He pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it.
"You got goose bumps," he half-chuckled, and started to remove his T-Birds jacket. She made to stop him from it, but he held up a hand. "You're cold, I'm not."
"Cause you're wearing a jacket, idiot," she snapped.
"Well you can warm me up later," he quipped, sliding his warm jacket around her shoulders.
Relief flooded over her. The cold was gone and Kenicke's scent was everywhere. Cigarettes, whiskey, and motor oil. No, no—this was not—she could not do this.
"Kenick," she started to protest.
"Shut up, Rizz. And, uh," he leaned in almost conspiratorially, perhaps not wanting anyone to overhear. She had seen him talk to Danny like this before. "You can wear that as long as you want. I mean, like… take it home and stuff. I like seeing you in it."
The bell rang just then, and they both turned for homeroom. Kenicke slid his arm around Rizzo's shoulders and gave her a light squeeze before they started walking.
She could fight with herself all she wanted, but when Kenicke ducked down to give her a kiss on the cheek, Rizzo outright smiled.