Note: All of the chapters are titled after the song that served as inspiration. They all revolve around members of the gang.
BED
Complex. One word to describe Nikki was complex.
Her mind was no different. Full of sarcasm and literature and strong opinions and feminist principles and resilience and travel destinations and the desire to be independent. No one knew her mind like a select five people did, and only two of those five were formally invited to venture inside it, to "pick" it.
Over the years, Jen came to know her like a book. She could tell what Nikki was thinking just by looking at her. Jen knew her secrets and her dreams and her fears—all which were kept by blood promises. But just as Jen could read Nikki like a journal, Nikki could do the same with Jen. The whole gang knew of her dreams to cure cancer and become a legendary snowboarder, yes, but Nikki knew Jen's entire plan of how to achieve those things and so much more. They both were pages with ink-smudged writing everywhere, the only two who could decipher each other because they understood each other, messy handwriting and all.
But, more intimately, another person occupied space in her head.
Jonesy. Goddamn Jonesy.
She only recently—around the time they started dating—let him wander around her mind. He learned just as much as Jen "and then some." He knew she liked to blow kisses with her fists to those who deserved it (because she only moved for the gut punch). Knew she enjoyed hitting people with the truth. Knew she loved her travel atlases. Knew the map on her bedroom wall was marked with destinations she'd one day visit. Knew the shelf in her bedroom was filled with every kind of novel in existence (except for science fiction because she was Nikki Wong and she loathed science fiction).
But he learned where she wanted to be kissed. Learned her innermost fears. Learned where she liked to be touched. Learned her few weaknesses (but never ever used them against her). Learned how long she harbored a crush on him. Learned what she yearned for. Learned what she thought of their future. Learned that she's too awake some nights. (Studied her when her guard was down.) Learned when she had fallen in love with him.
She even learned from him—learned that he felt the same way and had fallen in love with her.
Love was such a strange feeling, especially since she'd never been in it until Jonesy came along. It was strange and uncomfortable and lovely and refreshing. It made her feel uneasy and she wanted to drown in it.
Love took her into the bed she lay in.
Not a deathbed, not a flowerbed—but rather his bed.
His bed was now her bed, their bed. She was co-owner of the sheets made messy from their long summer nights. He was fully hers now, allowed to wander around her head and steal her heart. (It was okay because she had taken his long ago.)
She fought with him often—watching him bleed with a grin on her face because he's always wrong—yet she couldn't help her occasional longing to be by his side (or to be on top of him).
She fought with him often—because they sometimes clashed—but it was okay because they always made up.
She kissed him often, and it was alright—he was always on her mind, so why not have him on her lips?
They slept at each other's homes often, and it was all right because they shared the same bed.
And maybe someday, they would have their own home, where they could argue, make up, and sleep together. And maybe, just maybe, she considered that idea to be more-than-alright.