by Jaded (opheliadrowning@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: That '70s Show and its characters are not mine and are merely being used as pawns in my dirty, dirty, fan fiction game in a most definitely non-profit kind of way.
Summary: The morning after they end their summer fling, Jackie's not feeling so sure about the decision.
A/N: Generally I like to write longer, more "complete" chapters, but I'm in the middle of moving and I wanted to try to post more often before things got too muddled up and I disappear for days at a time.
Chapter Two: Ready or Not
It was 10 o'clock and Jackie was still in bed. A restless night sleep had left Fluffycakes, her stuffed unicorn, sprawled on the floor, his legs akimbo. She left him there, not wanting to get out of bed. She tugged at her comforter, pulling it up to her chin, wriggling further into her nest of pink and white sheets, blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals.
She had already been awake for two hours. Two hours spent staring at the ceiling and ignoring the sun. A dim, filmy light began creeping into her window, casting a long beam of sun onto her bedroom floor, taunting her, telling her it was time to get up. She turned away from the window and shut her eyes. Not yet, she thought stubbornly. I'm not ready yet.
It had been automatic, waking up at eight o'clock. The past few weeks she had gotten up every morning after a restful night sleep sufficient enough to qualify as beauty sleep—and it had worked, all she had to do was look into a mirror—showered, dressed, groomed, and brushed her hair, making herself presentable for the day. She had almost succumbed to her routine again today, but to do that was to fall into old patterns, to be moved by the urge to be somewhere, and with someone.
And that fact was more than enough reason to stay in bed. Today was not yesterday. It was not the day before. She couldn't go to see him—not like that anyway—and she didn't even know if he wanted to see her. He was so hard to read sometimes, hiding behind his Zen, his glasses.
But Jackie could not help but wonder where he was, what he was doing, and whether or not he was thinking about her.
She tried to imagine him. Was he lying in bed waiting for her to come over? Was he sitting in the basement watching the T.V., turning to the door every few minutes to see if she was going to burst through at any minute?
An image of him from yesterday wrapped only in a white towel came to her mind unbidden. She imagined that she could still smell him, fresh like soap and water, and that she could feel his body strong and solid against her own. And she imagined that she could still taste him, his mouth, his skin, delicious and warm against her lips. She ached all over, remembering how he had gripped her, how his hands had felt stroking her skin, exploring the curve of her hips and the flat of her belly. They had been so close.
Oh, this is ridiculous, she thought. If I keep thinking about this I'm going to go completely insane. But she found herself unable to stop. Maybe she was allowed. They had ended it only yesterday, and she hadn't had the chance to mourn the lost of it yet. She was allowed to miss it, wasn't she? Just because it hadn't been serious didn't mean it hadn't become something important, right?
Quickly she grabbed one of her pillows and screamed into it, thrashing around in bed. When she finished screaming she found that her eyes were wet with tears of frustration. Jackie lifted her hand to her face to wipe away her tears, but instead brought her hand to her mouth. She sighed, her chest heavy with too many emotions to name, and traced her lips with her fingers, lost again in thought.
"Steven," she whispered quietly, her eyes closed, not really sure herself if she had said it out loud or just thought it.
He had seemed happy enough yesterday when Michael, Donna, and Eric had come back from California. To watch him, Jackie wouldn't have believed that only a few minutes before they had been making-out on the couch in the Forman's basement. He looked so unfazed, so calm, cool and collected. It was infuriating.
So okay, she reasoned, it had been a fling. They had said "no strings attached," just some summer fun to pass the time, but the way he acted made it seem to her that it had been no big deal, that he could have done the same with any girl. Dammit, she thought, I'm not just "any" girl!
Jackie rolled around in bed for a few minutes longer, trying to breath evenly, to get herself to relax. She glanced at her clock. It was half-past ten already. Maybe it was time to get up, but she didn't know what she was going to do.
She very well couldn't go back to the basement. Avoiding it had been her entire reason for not getting out of bed this morning. Jackie wondered what Donna was up to now that she was back. She had missed her best friend, but Donna was probably with Eric. When they had gotten back the day before, it appeared that they had also "gotten back" with one another. They had been holding hands, kissing. Jackie had to force herself to not look at them and to not look at Steven.
She considered calling up Michael, but she was still mad at him and not ready to confront the mess there. She still had to work out how she felt, and there were too many raw feelings floating around to come up with any sort of conclusion.
Then she thought about her other friends—the cheerleading squad for instance. She had hung out with them a few times after school had ended, but then the whole thing with Steven had started and they had quickly faded away into the background. Except she didn't know where she would find them. The mall maybe? Or they could be at the Hub. Everyone hung out at the Hub. Losers, nerds, popular people, Fez. She was bound to run into someone. Anyway, it was time that she reasserted her place as most popular and pretty girl at Point Place High. An early start wouldn't hurt.
Jackie threw off the covers, resolved to get going at last. She felt purposeful. She headed to the bathroom, plugged in her curling iron, and readied herself for a full day ahead.
[end chapter two]