"Do you, uhm, I don't know, want to stay the night or something?"
Miranda looked up at Jack from the last piece of pizza, then over to Jack's bed, blushing a little at the idea.
"My father would be so angry."
"Is that a yes?" Jack asked hopefully.
Miranda grinned.
"It is tempting. But I really shouldn't. I'm already in trouble. He has no idea where I am. Might call the police. Sleepovers aren't something I usually do. Actually, I have hardly ever stayed over night at a friend's. Not in a long time, at least."
"Why not?"
Miranda frowned.
"I guess I just don't have that many close friends. Other girls don't seem to like me all that much, now that I think about it. It was just not as blatantly obvious when I was younger."
"Well, I'm not a friend. I'm that girl you were making out with all evening. The girl you licked pizza off of."
Miranda blushed a little, heart beating hard.
"That means we can't be friends?" she asked, trying to tease, but it came out way too serious.
Jack shrugged, looking uncomfortable.
"Dunno if we can. I've an impressive record of failed relationships of all kinds."
"Why? You're mostly perfectly sweet to me. Most of the time."
"I don't know. It's complicated."
"Everything's always complicated these days, isn't it?"
Jack grimaced. Then she said:
"I know. It's a word people use when they don't wanna explain shit. It's usually not complicated. Not even complex. Just messed-up and painful, but 'complicated' adds a bit of mystery. It's probably usually really simple..."
"But you don't wanna talk about it?"
Jack shrugged.
"No, probably not."
"I think I should go home."
Miranda got up and Jack followed her to the door.
"You're angry now."
Miranda turned to look at her, frowned, then shook her head.
"I am not. It's just... I wish I understood you."
"Yeah, welcome to my life."
Miranda rolled her eyes, but reached out and put her hand to Jack's shoulder, not quite sure what she meant to do. Jack sighed and took a step forward, leant against her.
"Bye," she muttered into Miranda's hair.
"Bye."
As she'd expected, her father was angry, but silent. Just gave her a cold, reproachful glare, then turned away from Miranda. It was pretty bad, the tension so heavy the entire Sunday that she barely left her room. Played her violin to fill the silence, Pachelbel's canon in D, mainly because she knew it annoyed him, he thought it was too easy. It was a far cry from Nielsen's ambivalent modernism, or even Bach's violin pieces, but she needed something she could play without thinking about it, something with an easy flow. Soothing and hopeful, with just a little longing in it.
She had never wanted Monday to come that badly. She'd written and not sent half a dozen messages to Jack, called Liara, just to hang up after two minutes of not actually knowing what she wanted to talk about, leaving Liara bemused. She'd probably have to face more prying Jane Shepard because of that. Though she had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the girl wasn't all nuisance.
She fell asleep that night thinking about Jack, woke up every few hours, and was cranky and tired when she went to school.
Jack didn't like being this nervous, or feeling out of her depth like this. She did strange things around Miranda. Like just let her guard down. Felt the need to disclose too much. Which was just plain stupid, she still barely knew her.
She was a pretty good kisser, though. That was probably the reason why they hadn't talked all that much.
Jack didn't see her at all until lunch, where she sat, surprise surprise, not with the crème de la crème, but with Jane Shepard. It was definitely an improvement. At least it wouldn't cause a huge commotion if she sat down there, too. And she had actually remembered to bring Shepard's jeans and sweater.
"Hey, Shepard, I brought you your shit back!"
She shoved a bag into the other girl's arms, then slumped down next to her, opposite Miranda, who glanced at her, then gave her a furtive smile before looking back down at her lunch.
"Washed it, too."
"A pleasant day to you, too," Jane said. "I hope you had a nice, relaxing weekend?"
Even out of the corner of her eye, Jack could see Miranda blush.
"Gee, what did you do to my jeans?"
"Oh, that. Sorry. I left them in the machine for too long, and I don't have an iron. But then, even if I did, I wouldn't have ironed your jeans, that's really just the most tedious and pointless activity on the planet."
"She's such a catch, Miranda," Jane muttered, and Jack punched her arm, while Miranda hissed:
"Keep it quiet!"
And that felt like a punch in the stomach, somehow. Really, it wasn't like she had expected Miranda to trumpet her undying love for her, but that reaction still sucked.
"Oh, screw it. I need a smoke."
Jack jumped up again and stormed out.
Miranda watched Jack run off, then huffed.
"Great, Jane. Are you happy now?"
"Ugh, can't you two work things out like normal people? What's with the dramatic running away all the time?"
"There is no such thing as normal people, especially around here," Miranda muttered.
"Don't you wanna go after her?"
"Look, you've involved yourself in this enough. From here on in, this is none of your business until one of us asks for your opinion or help, or whatever. Because you're not in this... thing we're having."
"It might help if you called it a relationship."
Miranda glared at her, then packed her stuff and got up.
"What are you doing?" Jane asked casually.
"Walking away from you," Miranda said irritably, then went after Jack.
She was, as Miranda had expected, right outside the school perimeter, dragging on a cigarette with a surly look about her.
"Jack, I..."
Jack just shook her head.
"It's fine. No one wants Jane Shepard blaring about their love lives, much less outing them in public," she said with a shrug.
"This is new, and strange, but I didn't want it to come across like I'm embarrassed by you. I am not."
"Okay."
She didn't sound convinced.
"Do you want to hang out some more? I'm kind of busy today, and tomorrow, too, but maybe Wednesday?"
"Yeah," Jack said lowly. "Okay."
"Can I come over again?"
Jack nodded, looking a little less surly.
"How are things at home?" she asked after a moment.
"Icy, but you get used to it."
"Really?"
Miranda closed her eyes.
"No, it sucks."
"But you're still on your tight schedule, then?"
She dropped the cigarette and crushed it into the dirt.
"I took on responsibilities, I can't just give up on everything now."
"Do you think I'll fit in there?"
Miranda couldn't quite interpret Jack's tone of voice.
"I'll make room for you."
"I'm so honored."
They stood there quite awkwardly, until Miranda finally said:
"I think it's time for class."
"Yeah."
She didn't even pretend to listen to her math teacher. She found herself doodling a large J into her notes and stopped herself quickly, but didn't manage to get Jack's eyes out of her head, and the way they had looked at her the moment she'd told Jane to keep it quiet. She could of course always blame Jane for not knowing when to keep her big mouth shut, but it had been Miranda's words that had hurt Jack. And Miranda kept telling herself she couldn't care less if people knew, but deep down inside she was aware that it was a lie. And she was fairly certain that Jack knew that, too.
But she wanted to be that girl who didn't care. She really did.
On Wednesday, however, Jack was all bravado and cocky smiles, and while Miranda was slightly confused by the change, she really didn't want to question it.
"I like being here," she said, as she sat down on Jack's couch, mostly for lack of anything else to say. "Your place is nice."
She meant it, in any case. But then, every place seemed preferable to home right now.
"Yeah, I actually cleaned."
Miranda laughed.
"That's not what I meant. Although I'm flattered. But it's like... it's cosy. And you."
Jack raised her eyebrows.
"Your place isn't you? I kinda wanna see your place, too. Is it a palace? Is your room all ballerinas and like, tasteful artsy stuff?"
"Why on earth would I like ballerinas?" Miranda asked, making a mental note to remove the Degas print if Jack ever came around.
Jack shrugged.
"Just a guess? Do you have a pony?"
"Oh, shut up and kiss me already."
Miranda blushed at her own words, but Jack grinned and didn't need any more incentive.
They were lying on the couch soon enough, Jack half atop her, one hand stroking Miranda's breasts through her shirt. Which felt surprisingly good, considering this was usually the place guys groped first, and it had never really done much for Miranda. But then, it wasn't just the touch. It was really more the fact that it was Jack's touch.
"Are you okay?"
"What?"
"You kind of spaced out there for a moment." Jack looked down at her.
"I..." Miranda blinked, feeling a little embarrassed. "I just had a totally philosophical thought that the quality of the touch mainly depends on who's doing the touching," she muttered.
Jack raised her eyebrows with a crooked smile.
"And your conclusion regarding our current situation?"
"High quality. Definitely."
Jack bent down again to kiss her, but then stopped herself with a frown.
"What is it?"
"I actually thought we might talk a little today, I just forgot."
"Talk?" Miranda gave her a frown. "Why?"
For some reason, that made Jack laugh.
"I don't actually know anything about you."
"I like making out with you, isn't that an interesting fact?"
But Jack just gave her a very serious look, and Miranda gave a small shrug.
"Fine, what do you want to know?"
"Whatever you want to tell me. Dunno. Small things."
"The pony's name was Shooting Star, but I didn't really have enough time for her, so we had to give her away."
"I am not even surprised."
Miranda huffed.
"Poor little rich girl, I know. This would be easier if you just asked me about things."
Jack thought for a moment.
"What would you do if you did have the time to just do whatever you wanted?"
"I am here right now, aren't I?"
"That's just evading the question."
Miranda looked away, then shrugged.
"I honestly don't know. I mean, I like what I'm doing, most of the time, but it can get too much and then I just hate it all. And sometimes I just can't tell if I actually like something or if it's just something my father wants me to like, and that scares me. Dammit, that is really not the kind of thing you're interested in hearing, is it?"
"Has anyone ever told your dad he's an ass?"
Miranda smiled a little at that.
"I don't think so. No, wait. His last girlfriend probably did."
She was silent for a moment, gave Jack a long look, then said lowly:
"I have a half-sister. She's just a baby. I never see her. I'd like to. Her name is Oriana. There, that's really something I don't usually tell anyone. Now tell me something about you, quid pro quo."
"Hmm, okay, Clarice. Something in particular that you want to know?"
"What's wrong with 'Jennifer'?"
Jack clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.
"Everything is wrong with 'Jennifer'."
"Why?"
She shook her head.
"She was a little kid nobody liked and nobody wanted, and she was unhappy all the time, and on top of it all it's just a stupid name. A really stupid name."
"Sounds fairly dissociative."
"Please don't give me any psychobabble. I've had my fair share of that. I just feel more like Jack, alright?"
"You know, I don't think this talking thing is working out for us at all," Miranda muttered.
Jack snorted slightly at that.
"You can be funny, you know that? I was just being an ass when I said it wasn't an attractive quality. It is."
Miranda reached out to stroke Jack's cheek lightly.
"Thanks. I don't think anyone before ever thought I was funny."
"Okay, we're done with the talking."
"Thank goodness," Miranda managed to get out before Jack's lips were pressed against hers once more.