JENNIE
I didn't take the pictures down. But I did start running in the morning.
It began on the days I didn't wake up in Lisa's bed. I was getting up earlier, accustomed to her alarm set for eight each day. I was more restless at night, especially when I didn't stay at her place. I slept lightly but jumped up when the sun rose, energy humming. It felt natural to throw on workout clothes, lace up my sneakers, and jog to the frozen lake in the center of town.
The first day, I knew I'd be sore. But I liked being alone in the early morning, and a few minutes in, I wasn't cold anymore.
On the way back, I found myself running by the west campus gym, where the cheer squad practiced. It was almost seven-thirty, which meant they'd be finishing up soon. I jogged into the athletic center and veered toward the gym at the end of the building.
Inside the open door, the girls were busy. Rosé's blonde ponytail swung on the far left. She was executing the jumps, but she looked a little slower than I remembered. Clumsier, holding her body less tight. Before I quit, we'd practiced together at least once a week. Rosé was taller than me, but when we worked together, I had no trouble lifting her. Those practice sessions had started to fall off the wagon a few weeks before I left the squad.
Guilt pinged through me. Maybe that's why she'd been reluctant to help when my utilities were off.
As I watched the girls get into split lifts, Grace, the assistant coach, walked behind them. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw me at the door.
I was caught. I gave her a little smile and waved.
She headed in my direction. She didn't look delighted, but she didn't look mad, either.
"Hey!" I said when she approached. "I was out for a morning jog and I just — stopped by. Everyone's doing amazing."
"Thanks, Jennie." She responded with a quick hug and a wry smile. "You see Theresa over there?"
My replacement. Basing for Rosé. She was fit and strong, but her timing was ever so slightly off now and then. Helping Rosé straighten her back leg for the split, getting Rosé's ankle off her shoulder — the moves were a fraction behind the other base. The crowd at a stadium might not notice, but I noticed, and I knew Rosé would.
"I see her."
She lowered her voice. "So you know what we're working with. And Rosé's struggling. She's trying her best, but she was better when you were on the squad."
I shook my sweaty ponytail off my neck. "We practiced together a lot."
Grace pressed her fingers together. "Jennie, listen. I'm sure you had your reasons, but you really let us down when you quit so suddenly."
"I'm sorry." My eyes stung. I hadn't admitted to myself how much I missed cheering.
"What happened?" Her expression was so understanding, it killed me. "You didn't give us much explanation. You said you were busy and didn't want to get up early anymore. But you're so responsible, I think there has to be more to it."
"My grades." The words bolted from my mouth. "My grades were bad last semester, and I would have been kicked off the squad when they came out."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Grace put a hand on my arm. "You could have gotten academic tutoring. We would have worked with you…"
"It wasn't about getting tutoring," I said quickly. "It was about not putting the effort in. I just — didn't care."
She studied me. "That doesn't sound like you."
"I'm sorry," I repeated.
"How are your grades now?"
"Better. I'm redoing some projects from last semester, and I'm staying on top of my classes now." I hoped.
Kim, the head coach, blew her whistle. The clock on the gym wall said seven twenty-five. The girls broke out of formation and moved into stretching.
"Come by anytime." Grace patted my arm and went to join Kim. I jogged out of the gym before Rosé saw me hanging around.
Monday morning, I was back at the gym watching, and again on Wednesday and Friday. I kept running every day, working my way up to longer distances. Jogging downtown, around the frozen lake, and back home was five miles. On the grass outside my apartment building, I stretched the way we would for cheer practice. After the girls vacated the gym, I slipped inside to test my tumbling skills. My splits were still good, my back handsprings decent. They got better as the week went on. I practiced my front tucks. Back tucks. My layouts and twists. They were all rusty at first, but I'd been tumbling since I was a kid, and my body remembered.
I came to depend on my runs to blow off steam and to stay calm when I tried to smooth things over with my parents. They told me that I'd need to pull at least a B in every class this semester in order for them to continue paying my tuition. I found myself running longer that day, wanting to feel more distance.
I can do this, I told myself as my feet pounded the ground. I can make those grades. Even in Victorian Lit. And if I don't, I'll pay my own way.
After Valentine's Day, my visits to Lisa were mostly quiet. She held me down and whispered filthy words. It was still exciting, but nothing crazy happened. We kissed a lot. We didn't talk about anyone's families, and she must have slipped the money in my purse while I was sleeping, because I never saw her do it.
But that didn't last. The following Friday, Lisa greeted me at her door with one hand behind her back and a little smile on her face. Wary, I stepped in. As soon as the door closed, she pulled out a stack of bills. The stack was thick, much thicker than the handful of twenties she usually gave me.
"What the hell is this?" My voice wavered.
She dropped a bill on the floor — a single. A fiver followed. The trail continued as she backed away from me, dropping ones and fives in a snaking path over her bedroom floor, until her hand was empty.
"Strip," she ordered.
I gaped. She waited. I took my clothes off and let them drop by the wall.
"Crawl," she said simply. "Pick this all up."
I did it, clutching the stack of bills. She unzipped her pants and freed her erection.
"Suck," she commanded when I reached her.
I did. The constant blowjobs I'd expected at the start had never materialized. This was only the second time I had my mouth on Lisa's cock, and the first time it was me who'd dove for it. Calmly, patiently, mercilessly, she talked me through deep-throating her. I wasn't allowed to put down the bills. When I gagged, she pulled back, then began fucking my mouth again. She used words on me she'd never said before.
Plaything. Toy. Submissive slut.
All while staring at my pleading face.
I was shatteringly aroused. Wanting her arousal. There was an overwhelming desire to give Lisa pleasure. Her cock filled my mouth and nudged my throat, hot and thick. I breathed in her musky scent. Her voice was silky, condescending.
"It's okay if you drool, girl. You know I don't want pretty. Look at you, trying to take my cock in your throat. You can't do it very well yet, but you'll learn."
She finished by pushing me away and ordering me onto all fours. She fucked me, her fingers curled around my throat, her cock moving roughly in and out of me.
Submissive. The word scared me.
"Good girl," she soothed.
I was still clutching that damn stack of bills, shaking with lust as the carpet pressed into my knees. At some point, I came. So did she.
I was dimly aware of her helping me to my feet and onto the bed, where I sprawled on the crisp sheets in a daze. Lisa stretched out next to me and touched my hip.
"Are you okay?" She looked almost concerned, hazed by the strands of dark hair that covered my face.
My voice was hoarse, my throat raw. "You know, I do take checks. Venmo works too." She laughed and got me a bottle of water from her desk. "Seriously, any chance you can—"
"No, Jennie. Cash only."
"I was going to say," I rasped, "could you maybe pay me in hundreds after this?"
Startled, she blinked, brushing the hair off my face. "Why do you want big bills?"
"Just because."
My heart-shaped box was getting full, stuffed with twenties, and I didn't want to run out of room. I should probably transfer the money to my bank account to keep it safe, but I was seeing my savings grow. Resisting the temptation of spending what was right in front of me. Like my runs, it made me feel strong. Powerful.
"All right." She flicked a single toward me that was lying on the bed, and I pushed it away.
"Why did you do this tonight?"
"To remind you why you're here."
I cut her the most evil glare I could manage, turned away, and pulled the covers over my head. But as she climbed out of bed and put on music to fall asleep to — something she'd started doing the past couple of weeks — I thawed out, relaxing into her embrace when she returned. And I wondered if she was actually trying to remind herself.
The next morning while she got breakfast, I checked my phone and found a voicemail from Grace.
"Jennie?" She sounded agitated. "I know this is short notice, but Theresa broke her ankle during practice. She was doing a back tuck and came down the wrong way…" Grace sighed. "She's out for the season. We have a game next Saturday night and two other girls are sick right now. I'd like to give you another chance. Can you step in? I've seen you practicing by yourself. You know most of the routines already, and it wouldn't take long to get you up to speed. You'd come to practice Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, attend the mandatory workouts, and commit to the rest of the season. It's only a few more weeks. This would really help us, Jennie. We need you." Click.
Lisa entered, balancing the cookie sheet on one hand. A bowl of strawberries caught my eye. I'd told her they were my favorite. Picking them up in February couldn't have been cheap.
I sat up, the covers sliding off my naked body.
"I'm rejoining the cheer squad."
She set the tray down on the bed. "That's unexpected."
"I'm full of surprises." I took a strawberry from the tray. I couldn't keep back a bounce of excitement. "The next game's on Saturday. I'm going to be practicing like crazy this week, and I'm going to be really sore from something you have nothing to do with. Wish me luck."
She grinned. Dammit, Lisa looked so good when she really smiled. "Luck."
On game day, I woke up with a dry throat and a splitting headache.
Normally, I'd be in Lisa's room right now, since it was Saturday morning. But she'd taken me home around one am, after she'd gotten a phone call that she answered in the hall. When she came back, her jaw tight, she said our time tonight was done and she'd see me Monday. No further explanation. After she dropped me at my apartment, her car took off with a roar. I hugged my coat close and wondered who or what she was speeding toward.
The past week had been a blur. Waking up early for practice, attending workouts, fitting in the runs I'd come to depend on. Pushing my last project from fall semester to the finish line. Keeping up with my classes and trying not to sink in Victorian Lit. Avoiding Kai at Student Senate. Handling my parents, who still held my grades over my head. Figuring out a budget for Jisoo's bachelorette party and fighting my impulse to impress her friends. Staggering to Lisa's room, following her orders, and sinking into jumbled dreams until my early alarm woke us both.
I stumbled out of my bed and into the shower. Hot water rained down on me. I let it stream over my face, my mouth. I was not going to duck out on today's game. They needed me. I'd worked my ass off for this.
I wanted it.
In the kitchen, I dumped instant coffee in a mug, added hot water, and gulped it down. Back in my bedroom, I yanked open my middle drawer, felt for the bottle of pills, and swallowed a couple of Adderall, washing them down with more coffee. I stuffed a fistful of gummy bears in my mouth.
This was my fucking breakfast of champions.
I was a champion.
Girls in cheer uniforms packed the dressing room at Whitman Arena. We clustered around the brightly lit mirrors, applying fake eyelashes and temporary tattoos with our school's logo on our left cheeks. I'd done my hair at home, but I borrowed Rosé's iron to refresh my curls.
Megan, one of the girls, leaned close to me. "I feel so bad about Theresa's ankle," she whispered. "But we all really missed you. You're so solid, we knew we could count on you."
I smiled at her. Our faces glowed in the mirror, eyes bright with pre-game energy. My headache was far away, my dry throat coated in cough drops, excitement zinging through me.
Our uniform tonight was different than the one I'd worn to Lisa's room. More forgiving, with more coverage. And I'd jumped into working out the past two weeks. I was stronger, harder. The elastic-waist skirt was still a little tight, but I'd gotten it on.
When I adjusted my skirt, I accidentally elbowed Rosé. She didn't look up from her phone.
Megan waved a hand in front of her face. "Rosé, can I use your curling iron?"
"She's sexting with Koo Junhoe," I explained.
Rosé tapped her screen. "You can just call him Junhoe. Everyone knows who he is."
"I thought it was all one word. KooJunhoe."
Megan snickered. Rosé turned to the mirror and wiped away a fleck of mascara. "You've been weird lately."
No, we've been weird.
"Rosé, you shouldn't distract Junhoe before the game!" Nikki, the team captain, exclaimed.
Without warning, Rosé tossed me her phone. "Write something."
"We're about to go on the court and you want me to ghost-sext Koo Junhoe?"
"Come on." She pouted. "We always used to do each other's texts to boys, before you got together with the ice king."
I scrolled through the conversation. It was completely unoriginal. I'll eat you out while you suck me off. You're so hot, baby. Do me all night long.
I know you can fuck my body, Koo Junhoe, I texted. But can you fuck my mind?
"You're on your own now." I tossed the phone back to her and popped another cough drop. The air burned in the dressing room. On the court, the pep band was playing.
"Jennie!" Rosé wailed. "All I got was a bunch of question marks. 'Fuck my mind?' What does that even mean?"
"Okay, girls!" Nikki clapped her hands. "Everyone line up!"
We jogged onto the court. The excitement hit me in a wave. It swept over me as we locked into a tight knot, pumping up the crowd, and scattered to break into our first routine. Our pom-poms flew. The band boomed. The crowd roared and whistled.
I loved it. I loved every minute. It was different from the fall, from freshman and sophomore year, from the fourteen years I'd spent cheering, starting when I could do a handstand.
I had nothing to prove. I wasn't aiming for fame. I wasn't trying to be Jisoo.
I was having fun and soaking up every fucking taste of it.
As we finished the routine and the men's basketball team jogged back onto the court, we retreated to the sidelines to clap and cheer. My headache was coming back. My voice would probably be gone by the end of the game. I didn't care.
The first half flew by. Rosé's eyes were glued to Koo Junhoe, and she cheered extra loud whenever he sank a basket. Half the girls on the squad were checking him out. He was a beautiful man. Sweat gleamed on his chest, polishing his skin. His smile lit up his face. He leapt across the court like the world was his oyster and slammed the ball through the hoop like it was his bitch.
And I wondered what Lisa was up to.
We ran back into formation for the halftime show, and Megan and I got into position to hoist Rosé up. She jumped into our hands and straightened as we lifted her above our heads, arching one leg behind her. The bases next to us lifted their flyer. She and Rosé cupped their hands to support a third girl who vaulted up.
My head began to throb, too insistently to ignore. I swayed. As I tried to hold my stance, my arms wobbled. I tightened my grip on Rosé's ankle and locked my knees. Megan caught my eye and shook her head slightly. Don't lock your knees, she was saying. But I couldn't risk compromising Rosé's balance.
The room dimmed. Bright spots swam in my vision. The court tilted front of me.
No. Oh no. Get a grip, Jennie…Jennie…
"Jennie?" Megan hissed in my ear.
"I'm going to faint."
"No." Her eyes got big, her mouth a round O. Bracing her body against mine, she stepped on my foot like it would hold me in place.
"Help me." Words I'd never said before my visits to Lisa's room.
"Guys!" she shouted, jerking her chin towards the top of the pyramid. "Get down!"
Thank God the top girl was already jumping off. But it wasn't happening fast enough. I swayed again. My knees buckled and Rosé's weight tipped above me.
"I'm sorry," I croaked, crumpling. "I'm so, so sorry."
The room went black.
When I opened my eyes, a circle of faces peered down at me. I was on my back. The stadium lights were so bright, shining between the faces above me, making it hard to see features. My head hurt like hell.
"Water," someone said. A water bottle was shoved in my face, held to my lips. I struggled to sit up and someone eased me back down.
"Uh-uh." It was Grace. "You stay there."
"I'm sorry," I repeated. "Jesus, I'm sorry."
The crowd was noisy. Talking, yelling, the sounds magnified like the lights. I couldn't tell what was happening, if the game was back in play. Water spilled over my lips and trickled into my mouth. I tried to slurp it up.
"Are the other girls okay?" I whispered. "Is Rosé okay?"
"Just concentrate on Jennie for now, all right?" Kim, the head coach, peered at me. "My God, what were you thinking? You're dizzy and feverish. Did you tell anyone you were sick?"
"I didn't want to let you guys down," I mumbled.
She shook her head.
The circle above me parted. Silhouetted against the lights, a mountain of a body appeared.
Palms cupped my cheeks. Fingers brushed my forehead, easing my headache.
"You all right?" a familiar voice asked, quiet and deep.
"I'm dreaming." I managed a smile up at Lisa. Her brown eyes were concerned. "This isn't really happening. You're not here at the game. You don't like to have fun."
Kim and Grace exchanged glances.
"Who's this?" Kim frowned.
"A friend." I closed my eyes.
"Don't close your eyes," someone said. "Stay awake, Jennie." I forced my eyes open.
"I can take her to Health Services." Lisa's words floated above me. "My car's right outside."
"Well…" Kim's voice was doubtful, but I could tell she wanted the problem solved.
"It's all right." I touched her arm. "I'll go with him."
"Stan, do you think—" Kim turned to our trainer, who was hovering over me.
"She should go," Stan said decisively. "I don't think she's concussed, but the symptoms can be delayed." He turned to Lisa. "You're okay getting her to the car without shaking her up?"
"Yes."
"You know how to watch for signs of a concussion?"
"I do."
Grace handed Lisa a card. "Here's our numbers. Text to let us know how she's doing." She squeezed my shoulder. "We're having a talk once you're better. Got it?"
"Got it."
Lisa cupped my face again. "You ready?"
I nodded. My head throbbed.
The circle opened up again. Lisa knelt beside me, cradling my shoulders in one arm and sliding the other under my knees. She lifted me easily and stood. I rested my head against her chest.
"Text us," Grace was saying. "Don't forget."
"I will." She carried me to the exit. The game was back in play, but when there was a pause for a foul, the announcer had to throw in that I was being carried out. There were cheers and whistles.
Outside, I stared up at the midnight blue sky. Lisa moved carefully so as not to jostle me. Her sweater — merino wool, deep charcoal gray — was soft next to my cheek. I held on to the back of her neck.
"Congrats," she said as we crossed the parking lot. "You're famous."
"Don't start." The clouds moved overhead. "That was the most embarrassing thing I've ever experienced. And if you got off on it, I'm going to punch you."
She snorted. "I didn't."
"Not even a little bit?"
We stopped at her car — impeccably clean, obviously old. Lisa had to unlock the passenger door manually. She set me down, keeping a firm grip on my waist as she opened the door.
"Jennie, if you think collapsing on a basketball court because you're sick is anything like what we do in my room, then you don't get it."
"Oh, I get it." I settled into the passenger seat, my head feeling so heavy. My eyelids kept dragging down. "I just want to keep talking so I can stay awake."
A wry smile played over Lisa's lips. "Go ahead."
She shut my door. I heard her footsteps circling the back of the car, her door opening. The car sank as she sat down in the driver's seat and started the engine.
"I let all the girls down." I stared through the windshield at the rows of cars shining under bright lights. Lisa turned onto the main campus road. "Literally. That was exactly what I was trying not to do. I felt like crap when I got up this morning. I was desperate to push through and show up, and I ruined everything."
"No, you didn't." She rubbed the back of my head. "They'll survive."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No."
"Rosé—"
"Don't worry about her." Lisa rolled her eyes. "Seriously, don't."
"She fell with me."
"And she got up and walked away. Your "friend" was just fine. Pissed, but fine."
"Oh." I crossed my elbows over my chest and grasped my bare shoulders, shivering.
We stopped at the intersection of Campus Drive and Pine. Lisa pulled her gray sweater over her head, and handed it to me. "Put that on."
"God, you're bossy. Next you'll be telling me to eat my vegetables."
I put the sweater on over my uniform. The wool was soft and fine. The sweater smelled like Lisa: fresh, cool, faintly salty, like ocean air. You could have fit two of me in there. I tucked my hands in the sleeves and curled up on the seat, hugging the sweater to me. Lisa cranked up the heat, but she left my window open a crack.
"Thanks," I murmured, grateful for the fresh air.
"You're welcome."
"When I was a kid, it always seemed so glamorous in old books when ladies would faint. But it's the least glamorous thing ever."
"Mm," Lisa said.
"I think I'm going to throw up."
"Open the window."
I lowered it. Wind rushed in. "You want me to take your sweater off?"
She smiled reluctantly. "Just be careful."
Nausea rolled over me. "Lisa—"
She slowed and pulled over to the side. I leaned out the window, hanging on to the rim, and threw up, as carefully as I fucking could. Somehow, I managed to miss her car. And her precious sweater.
"God." I sank back onto my seat, my throat sore from retching. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." She took a bottle of water out of her glove compartment and twisted the cap off.
When the seal snapped, her eye twitched. I would have called it a tic, but I'd never seen it before. She handed me the bottle.
I spit the first mouthful out the window and drank a few sips, the plastic sides of the water bottle crumpling inward.
Lisa pulled onto the road. "We're close. Hang in there."
"I'll try." I rested my head against her solid shoulder. She glanced down at me.
"Don't close your eyes," she warned.
"I won't. Promise."
We drove past the student union and the library. Yellow squares of windows glowed in the dark.
"Probably everyone on the squad hates me now," I muttered. "I should send out an email to apologize. I'm sure I've been kicked off already."
"Babe." A huge hand covered mine as I reached for my purse. "You really think the world's going to collapse if you fuck up?"
"Kind of, yeah."
"Then you have a damn high opinion of yourself." She steered the car into a space in front of Health Services.
"No, that's you. You've got an opinion about everything. What do you think? Will the world collapse?"
Lisa parked. Her fingers beat a slow tattoo on the wheel. "You said you were a quitter last semester — letting your grades drop, partying. I think you were trying to prove that if you screwed up, everyone else would be okay. In the end, the only person who suffered was you, and you called it having fun."
"Remind me not to ask what you think again."
She tweaked the bow that held my hair in the half-up, half-down style we always wore for games. I didn't argue when Lisa helped me out, wrapping her arm around my waist as we walked to the glass door of Health Services.