For a while, there was nothing but silence. Miranda didn't look at her father, just sat on her bed as neatly as she could, hands folded in her lap, eyes trained at her knees. How she hated that silence. It made her want to scream, but she couldn't, she never could.
"Explain yourself."
"What is there to explain?" she replied wearily.
"How am I supposed to trust you ever again?"
"I just wanted to be with her. I really like her," she burst out.
"Is this some sort of teenage rebellion? I expected you to be smarter than that. More mature."
Miranda shook her head.
"I have always done everything you've asked of me. But this. This is nothing you get a say in. This isn't even up for debate." She wanted to shout it at him, but her voice was low and toneless.
"That girl is the worst kind of company. You're not seeing her again."
She gave a soft laugh.
"Or what? Ground me? Throw me out?" Miranda closed her eyes. "Do it. If this is what it takes..." Words failed her. She was scared. But determined. Finally looked up to meet his angry glare.
"Who is this girl, anyway? Who are her parents? Why do they let her run around like that?"
Miranda balled her hands into fists.
"She has no family. She's living on her own."
He snorted.
"Miranda. Be reasonable. I am open-minded, if you prefer women, I'm sure we can find someone much more suitable for you."
She just stared at him, then shook her head.
"You just don't get it, do you? I don't want anyone else. I want Jack. She's great, and smart, she's an artist, and she's worth so much more than anyone you could pick for me, so much more than anyone else."
And I'm falling in love, Miranda thought, but she couldn't tell him. No, she didn't want to. He had no right to know about her feelings.
"You're such a child, Miranda. Fine. Be like that. Hand me your phone. No internet for you, either. And you'll come home right after school."
She raised her eyebrows and gave him a cold glare as she handed her phone over. If Miranda had learned anything from him, it was that kind of look. He just shook his head and left without another word.
With a deep sigh she let herself fall back onto her bed. Buried her face in the pillow that still smelled like Jack. In spite of everything the memory of Jack's hands on her made her horny as hell. And terribly embarrassed at the same time. Damn, she really hoped Jack would put up with all this shit. She couldn't even write to her as she'd promised. Miranda's feelings threatened to go haywire and she curled together on her bed, trying in vain to bite back her tears.
. . . . .
Jack was heavily preoccupied all day. She almost broke the fucking coffee machine when she forgot to refill the water. Her eyes were positively glued to her phone, and hell, she was worried when Miranda didn't send her a message.
When she finally got a text, dropping the phone in her hurry to read it, it wasn't from Miranda, but from Jane, who asked if she wanted photos from the party. Jack was close to telling her to fuck herself, but then thought there might be pics of Miri, and reluctantly gave Jane Shepard her email address.
When she finally got home, she turned on her crappy old notebook, which took forever to boot up, then checked her mail at once, but there was nothing but spam and the link to Jane's pics. Which contained an awful amount of shots of her scowling, but every time she noticed Miranda in one of them her heart felt as if it were trying to crawl out her chest through her throat. Damn, she really had fallen hard. She wanted to text her, but suspected by then that it might just get her into more trouble. So Jack just sat there, staring at a particularly sweet picture of Miranda, fingertips tapping restlessly onto the desk. She hated the thought, and she wouldn't admit it to anyone, but sometimes she couldn't help thinking it would have been nice to have someone to talk to. An adult. But then, parents were no guarantee for any kind of caring about you, Miranda's dad had demonstrated that quite nicely. Compared to her, Jack thought, she was much better off alone. At least she could bring home whoever she wanted.
Not that she wanted to bring home anyone but Miranda.
She took a pencil and carefully sketched out Miranda's face, then looked at the wall. There was still free space.
"You really like her, don't you?"
Jack wheeled around.
"Fuck, Liz, you startled me! Don't sneak up on me like that."
"Sorry. I knocked, actually. You were just really lost in thought. That's a very nice drawing. I like it better than the rest. Everything else is so sad, but look at her."
Jack didn't know what to say.
"Was there something you wanted?"
"I've made dinner. Just spaghetti. Are you hungry?"
Jack looked back at her half-finished work, then shrugged.
"Yeah, okay. Thanks."
. . . . .
To Jack's utter relief, Miranda was waiting for her in front of the school the next morning.
"Fuck, I was worried!"
She wanted to reach out and touch her, but then thought better of it and let her hand sink again. They hadn't been particularly discreet at the party, but Jack really didn't know how much public display of affection Miranda was okay with.
Miranda was too preoccupied to notice all of it, anyway.
"I couldn't text you, he took my phone, and didn't let me use the computer."
"Ugh, what a... How are you, what did he say, what did he do?"
Miranda grimaced.
"I am grounded. I don't even know if I can take that seriously. What am I, ten? I'll be eighteen in half a year. Honestly, the more he tries to rein me in, the less I care."
Suddenly she looked flustered.
"I'm still so sorry that happened." Blushing, even. Jack remembered the feeling of Miranda's skin under her fingers, the way she'd looked, flushed and a little nervous, but eager as well, and Jack felt the heat creeping up her neck and face, too.
"I've been in worse trouble."
Miranda looked relieved.
"You'll have to tell me about it someday."
"Maybe I will. So... grounded? Indefinitely?"
Miranda huffed.
"He can't do that. I am not a child. I..." She looked at Jack, with a small smile, and brushed her hair behind her ear. "I'm feeling a little reckless. I'm sure that's your bad influence on me." She winked. "Would you like to do something this afternoon?"
Jack gave her a frown.
"Do you think that's a good idea? Pissing him off even more?"
"Are you worried?"
"Of course I'm worried. You're getting in trouble because your dad doesn't like me!"
"Jack, stop it." Miranda ran her hand through her hair. "This is what he always does. Not quite so drastically, because... well, nevermind, but it has nothing to do with you, okay?"
"But it has to do with me. I like you, I don't want this to turn into an even bigger mess." She buried her hands in her pockets.
Miranda shook her head, then looked up at the sky, muttering:
"I like you, too, I just want to spend time with you, I did nothing wrong, I don't deserve to be punished." She looked back at Jack. "If you don't want to put up with this, I'd understand, but..."
"No! Fuck, that's not it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Come on, I'm not scared of your old man. The fuck kind of chickenshit do you think I am?"
Miranda smiled a little at that.
"Good. So... This afternoon?"
"Don't you have something super important on your schedule?"
"No. Well, yeah. You."
Jack snorted and grinned at her.
"Too tacky?" Miranda asked.
"No, it's a great line. Yeah, sure. Okay. This afternoon."
"No more interruptions," Miranda said softly, making Jack wish, rather urgently, that it were afternoon already.
She nodded.
"No more interruptions."
. . . . .
Jack felt unusually nervous as they made their way toward her flat. She wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't the idea of sex itself so much as the thought of sleeping with Miranda. And that was odd, because really, it had been on her mind pretty much ever since they'd first kissed. And yesterday they'd been very close, but she hadn't had much time to think about it then, just gone with it. Now she'd had all day to wonder why she wanted this so badly, beyond the fact that Miranda was hot as hell. And then she thought of the drawing on her wall and wasn't sure if she wanted Miranda to see it. It had seemed a good idea last night, but now it felt a little ridiculous. Cheesy, really. Bordering on creepy.
And on top of it all, she couldn't help wondering if Miranda would get in worse trouble for this. But hell, who was she to tell Miranda what to do, right?
"You're quiet."
"I might have drawn your face onto my wall!" Jack burst out.
Miranda blinked at her a few times.
"You're not sure?"
Jack rolled her eyes.
"I'm sure."
Miranda gave her a lopsided, pleased smile.
"Really? Without a reference?"
That was not quite the reaction Jack had anticipated, but she was glad Miranda didn't seem to mind.
"No, Jane sent me party pics. You happen to look great in all of them."
"I bet you're pulling a face in all of them. You'll have to show me." She grinned at her.
"You're in an awfully good mood. I mean, considering your trouble at home."
Miranda stopped abruptly.
"Can you maybe just not constantly remind me of that?"
Jack took a step back.
"Gee, okay, I was just asking!"
"I just don't want to talk about it anymore."
Miranda hadn't meant to snap at Jack. But she could positively see her worrying. Worrying about her. And that moment she really hated her father. The way he got into people's heads. The way he corrupted everything she dared to want for herself.
"I'm sorry," she muttered after a moment, digging her nails into her palms in an effort to remain calm.
"Ugh, don't do that." Jack pried her clenched fists open gently. "It's alright."
Miranda bent forward and kissed her quickly.
"Just don't worry so much on my behalf. I really don't know how to deal with that."
Jack made a movement that was half shrug, half nod.
"I'll try."
. . . . .
Miranda stared at herself in miniature on Jack's wall.
"That is..."
"Too much?"
Miranda had to swallow for a moment, before she thought her voice wouldn't betray too much of her feelings.
"The poem's a bit much. But I like it. I really, really like it."
She was surprised by how nervous Jack had become. She took her hand, quickly, before she could change her mind, and kissed it lightly. Just her lips brushing over Jack's knuckles.
"I think I'm falling in love," she whispered, mouth dry. The startled expression Jack gave her for a moment made her regret saying it, but then Jack pulled her close, brought their lips together, kissing her hard, and rough, and just a little desperate.
"Me, too," Jack said a moment later, very quietly. Then she added: "Fucking feelings, right?"
Miranda laughed.
"Goddamn fucking feelings."