(I'm not sure this one is up to par (at least as far as length) but I just can't seem to add to it. I'm going to take that as a sign that it's done and release it into the wild.)
Their eyes meet as their lips move apart, and there is a long moment of stillness, broken only by fluttering eyelashes and slow, unsteady breathing. Just like that, their first kiss has come to an end.
Jack, at least, never wants it to end. Her hands are on Miranda's hips, the synthetic material of her cheerleading uniform slick and foreign under her fingers, Miranda's hips are notched against hers perfectly, hands tucked into the punk's back pockets. If they pressed any closer, they'd be crawling inside each other, and Jack feels sexier, more powerful, more in-control than she ever has. At this moment, she feels as though she could take on the world.
"Ask me to prom," Miranda says suddenly, and like that the moment is broken.
Thoughts erupt inside Jack's head like a swarm of buzzing, stinging insects. She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to handle the sudden request or the weight that comes with it...or the consequences that will follow it. The thoughts are making her head itch, her skull burn. And she lashes out.
"Are you fucking stupid?" Jack demands, squeezing her eyes shut so she won't have to meet Miranda's stricken gaze. "Or just high? Shit! The hell are you thinking?"
The cheerleader tenses for a moment, clearly expecting something to make that question somewhat less biting, but nothing is forthcoming. She pulls away, tugging her hands free of Jack's pockets and pushing the skinny girl back a step.
"I'm neither stupid nor high," she snaps in return, her haughty, self-assured rich girl persona firmly back in place, "And I thought about it quite a bit, actually! Enough to know that there aren't any rules against it."
"What, and you think rules are gonna save you? Maybe you really are stupid." Jack throws up her hands and turns away, head still shaking slowly. "Or just too fucking popular to know what it's like at the bottom. Do you even know what people would say?"
Miranda crosses her arms over her chest and lifts her chin, countering in that same stuck-up tone of voice.
"I think the more appropriate question is: do I even care what people would say? And the answer is no."
Jack whirls on her, rushes at her, pins her to the opposite wall of the small space. Miranda gasps in surprise before beginning to struggle, shocked at how firmly the smaller girl holds her place. Their faces are close, only a hand span apart now, labored breaths mingling in the space between them.
"You should care. You would care, if you really understood." Jack's angry hiss fades into a cooing falsetto, but her words are stark and angry. "Ooh, look at the dykes coming to prom together! I'd say they've got balls but they don't cause they're lesbos! Oh my god, is that Miranda Lawson with that crazy Jack girl? Isn't she a criminal? Quick, somebody get a teacher...and a camera, I'm gonna need proof!"
Miranda scowls at her, hands still pushing – although more weakly now – against the front of the white ribbed tanktop and leather jacket. The lean body pinning hers doesn't budge.
"I can make my own decisions, damn you! If you don't want to go with me, then just say so!"
"And that's just the beginning," Jack continues in her own voice, completely ignoring Miranda's reply. "This...thing we've got, it'll be public. The whole fucking school's gonna know! The students, the teachers, probably the damn parents...definitely your dad."
Miranda's face falls, and or an instant, Jack is certain she's finally gotten through. Then the cheerleader's chin goes right back up, her gaze clear and hard.
"I don't care," she repeats sharply. "He's never happy with what anything I do anyway, but I'm not going to let him take this away from me."
"God dammit!" Jack explodes then, beating one hand against the wall next to Miranda's head. "Why are you so fucking stubborn!? This is the dumbest idea I've ever heard, and considering where I come from...why are you so stuck on this!?"
"Because you haven't said no."
The cool words, unhesitating and painfully true, knife right through Jack's angry façade. She holds herself away from the wall a little, arms fully extended and head hanging. She'd been hoping Miranda would just respond to her anger, but apparently the heiress has gotten to know her a little too well.
"You...you're really willing to go public? To let the whole school – maybe the whole world, considering how famous your dad is – know that you're dating someone like me?" Jack's voice is weak, soft, and perhaps just a little hopeful, although she knows logically that this is a terrible idea and rules or not they're both likely to face some serious shit over it.
"Yes," Miranda replies equally softly, her arms once again sliding around Jack's waist, although she bows to the solemnity of the moment and keeps her hands out of those oh-so-inviting back pockets. "Are you?"
"I...I don't know," she answers honestly. "But I really..." She pauses, takes a deep breath, tries to figure out a less-uncool way of saying it. Unfortunately none exists that she knows of, so she finally has to go forward with some of the wimpiest words she's ever uttered. "I like you. A lot. And I...want to be with you, just like...all the fucking time, and I want you to be happy, and I want to go to prom with you. So I'll ask you, okay? But not right now. I wanna make it good."
Miranda just smiles that incandescent smile that makes her insides feel entirely too warm and soft, and then they're kissing and kissing and kissing like the world's going to fall down on them any minute. And they're okay, at least for now.