F/F Work in Progress

*This is a scene with a new set of characters (not related to any book) that I wrote for fun one day. This is a planned project for the future.


It’s better than a drug. This feeling swirling in my gut and my heart pounding like I’m dangling a hundred feet in the air, only holding on by a single hand.

She’s better than a drug.

I slouch in the wooden chair, tonguing the cut at the corner of my mouth as I glare past Father McNealty’s empty chair.

But all I see is her.

“If you ever come near me again,” Olivia Jaeger grits through her teeth in the chair next to mine. “I will cut you.”

I look over at her. The orange juice she threw at me stains her white Polo, because the stupid bitch took me to the ground in the lunch room and rolled us in the mess all over the floor. 

But I almost smile, seeing the tear in her sleeve. I fought back.

“Cut me?” I taunt, watching her as she watches me graze my hand up the inside of my thigh, dragging up my school skirt. “Where?”

I pretend to rub myself, moaning.

Her mouth twists into a snarl. “Cunt.”

I turn away, smiling to myself. Dyke.

Sitting up straight, I hold up my nails, inspecting the damage. It took three teachers to pull us off each other. My only regret is that she didn’t start this shit after school when we wouldn’t have been interrupted. I’m in every bit as good a shape as she is. This could’ve gone on for hours.

The second bell rings, and now we’re officially late for fifth period. Where the hell is he?

“They’re going to research it, you know?” Liv says, and I can see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “Find out were that video came from, and when I take this online with my receipts, the entire fucking world will be calling for your head.”

I pick at the chipped red nail polish. “And who will believe you?” I turn my head, meeting her dark eyes under her long, black lashes. “I’m Clay Collins.”

Blonde and just like a bomb. Everything the administration loves to parade around in their recruitment brochures.

Her eyes narrow.

I look her up and down. “And you’re a dumpster rat probably looking forward to a long and illustrious career turning tricks on the dirty floor of her shitty house.”

Olivia shoots out and grabs me by the back of my neck. I gasp.

I clutch the arms of the chair for support as she pulls us face to face, and I harden my jaw, looking into her eyes. The dark brown lights up with flecks of gold as she glares at me, and I can smell the peaches in her long black hair.  

My heart pounds so hard. Yes.

Like a fucking drug.

She stares at me with fury, and I brace myself for impact when I know I should pull away.

But I don’t want her to let me go.

This is what the fight felt like. Why I would do it a thousand times more just so I could fill up with something strong and smile once today and feel it.

I hate Olivia Jaeger. I fucking hate her, and I’d happily never love anything if I could hate her my whole life.

My eyes pool with tears, and I don’t know why.

But I don’t blink.

Come on. My chin trembles. Come on. I want this.

The juice she threw at me still drips from my skirt, and I close my eyes at the burn in my scalp where her fingers are curled into my hair under my pony tail. Come on. I open my mouth, feeling her everywhere. Almost tasting it.

Bitter but beautiful, like Valium on my tongue. That’s what she’s like.

I open my eyes, a tear spilling over, and I see her watching me, a mixture of anger and wariness in her eyes. Like she’s unsure about something.

A voice carries in from the office, and Livvy pushes me away, releasing me as the door to the headmaster’s office opens.

I shake my head as I sit back in my chair. Wimp.

“Father McNealty is held up with the mayor,” Mrs. Garrison tells us, remaining in the doorway. “He will speak to both of you in the morning, so don’t think you’re off the hook. Go to the locker room, change—”

I rise before she’s finished, grab my cell phone, and walk past the old bag.

“And get directly to class,” she yells after us as Liv and I walk through the office toward the door. “If I get another whiff of one more fight between you two, I’m calling your parents to pick you up!”

But we’re already in the hallway, the door swinging close behind us. I don’t turn around, and I don’t slow down, charging down the empty hallway as teachers drone on in their classrooms, and I descend the stairs, finding my way to the locker room.

Jaeger’s on my tail the entire time, though, and I feel her eyes on my back. I hope she jumps me again.

I hope she does.  

But she won’t. Her world doesn’t revolve around me. Getting expelled won’t get her out of the gutter, will it?

I push through the door, the offices and locker room empty as everyone is already outside. I charge for my locker and dial in the combination, throwing it open.

“Just had to be orange juice, didn’t it?” I gripe, pulling my black Polo off over my head. “Everything is sticky.”

It’s down in my goddamn socks. These saddle shoes are vintage. If she fucked them up, I’ll make sure not even her lowlife brothers can protect her.

 She digs in her locker—which is unfortunately in the same row, because Coach keeps lacrosse together—and I stalk over to the cabinet, pulling out a spare Polo.

“You know,” I tell her, fumbling with the clean shirt, “if you didn’t want everyone to see, then maybe you shouldn’t have been practically fucking her in public.”

“We weren’t fucking,” she growls, glaring at me. “As you, and everyone else, clearly saw. I guess if I didn’t want people filming, I shouldn’t have expected as much as some simple manners from a stupid, useless cow.”

I slip my arms into the shirt. Stupid, useless…  

But I pull it back off and throw it at her. “This should fit your fat tits. Take it.”

She catches it, and I yank another shirt out of the cabinet, making sure it’s a small.

She sets the shirt in her locker, checking her face in the mirror that hangs on the inside of the door. A trickle of dried blood coats the ridge of her ear, and I try not to look at she wipes it clean.

A tiny pang of guilt hits me, but I push it away. She made me bleed, too, didn’t she? It’s not my fault she has to trail metal up her ear with all her dumb piercings. She came at me first.  

I lick the cut at the corner of my mouth again, glancing over and watching her throw the bloody wipe on the ground, her lips twisted in anger.

But the fury is in her eyes, too.

The pinch between her brows and the upset in her jaw. I pause, confusion seeping through.

I wasn’t going to post the video. That wasn’t my plan originally. I mean she’s the stupid one. Who’s idiot enough to think anything we do is private anymore? Anyone could’ve seen them in that car this weekend. Why is she surprised?

She probably knew that chick for three whole seconds before she invited her into her backseat anyway. It’s not like it’s special.

Any more than the last one was.

I grind my teeth together and close my eyes, blinking long and hard.

Olivia kissed that girl everywhere. Like, everywhere.

I stare off into my locker, the bra like sandpaper on my skin.

I peel it off, dropping it to the floor.

I mean, if I did that with my boyfriend in a public place, I’d be a slut, right? I might even get into trouble, because sluts don’t represent Marymount at lacrosse games.

Marymount girls are good girls. We’re discreet.  

And n ow she knows.

I stand there, the air grazing my bare breasts as she fumbles in her locker.

She brushes down her blue, green, and black plaid skirt as chills spread across my body.

She tightens her high ponytail, fluffing up the messy hair and smoothing out the loose tendrils that hang around her ears, the posts and small rings there glinting in the lights as the flesh of my nipples hardens.

I can’t look at her, but I see everything.

She stops moving and lets her head fall, both of us breathing in sync.

“Why do you want me to hurt you?” she asks, her voice suddenly soft.

I don’t blink.

Why, she asks?


My chin trembles. Because…at least it’s something.

At least I have that.  

My brother’s picture hangs inside my locker door, and I absently rub my thumb over the faint, hidden tattoo on the inside of my middle finger. He would’ve been fourteen this month.

My insides shake, and I grab the prescription bottle, tapping out a ten-milligram blue pill. I pop it into my mouth, the bitter dust starting to dissolve on my tongue before I swallow.

I pull out a clean sports bra and pull it over my head.

“Where’d that bruise come from?” she asks.

I cock an eyebrow, stopping myself from wincing as the bra squeezes my ribcage under my arm where a nasty blue-green bruise about the size of a pancake swells.

“Answer me.”

“Well, it’s from you, isn’t it?” I fire back. I mean, duh. “You knocked me to the ground during practice on Monday. We’re on the same team, you know?”

Bitch slammed right into me, my stick nearly impaling me.

I meet her eyes, but she doesn’t say more. Yeah, that’s right. Our shit didn’t start with the video. You’ve had this coming.

I pull on my black Polo as she takes off her dirty one, and for a moment, I can’t take my eyes off her stomach. The contours are tight and smooth, but I turn away before she can see me look.

What does she do? Barter for tummy-tucks while the rest of us are starving ourselves?

Digging in her locker, she pulls something out and holds it to me.

I look over, seeing a package of wet wipes. I dart my glare back up to her.

“You want them or not?” she barks.

“Piss off.”

She walks over, pulling a wipe out of the pack and reaches for me.

But I swing my arm, knocking hers away.

“There’s a drop of blood on the back of your neck, dumbass,” she growls.

She pushes me back around and wipes at the blood, which I’m not sure is mine or hers, but if it’s on the back of my neck that would explain why I couldn’t see it.

Does she feel guilty about the bruise? It’s not like she should. I got her back. That video had eighty-five thousand views before I took it down at three this morning.

But by then it had already done it’s damage, hadn’t it? What’s on the Internet stays on the Internet somewhere.

Jesus, what did I do?

Tingles spread up my spine.

 She’s so warm. She’s not even touching me, but I can feel it.

And I hate it. I grab the package and the wet wipe out of her hand. “Just give it to me, Dyke.”

She slams her hand into the lockers, and I jump.

Bitch. I whip around to shove her away, but she grabs my wrists and spins me back around, fisting my hair and stuffing my head into my locker.


But my stomach somersaults, and… I almost want to smile. Oh, God. Planting my hands on the lockers, I get ready to push back against her, but she’s already backing off. Her grip loosens, and I feel her hands drop to my waist, her fingers digging in.

“It’s going to take every ounce of pull I have to protect you,” she says in my ear. “You know that?”

Protect me?

“Once my brothers find out what you did,” she warns, “their women will rebuild your fucking face, Collins.”

“I’m not scared of Tryst Six,” I say over my shoulder.

My father eats that side of town for breakfast.

But then I hear the click of her blade behind me.

And I stop breathing.


She won’t do it.

“Take out your phone,” she tells me.

“What for?”

I turn around, meeting her eyes, both us almost the same height.

Her arm hangs at her side, the blade in her hand. “Do it.” She cocks her head, calm. “I’m sure you have notifications by now.”


What did she do?

I quickly turn around and grab my phone out of the locker, turning it back on.

It lights up, loads, and in a moment, I hear dings and see tabs pop up.

Clicking on one, I watch as YouTube loads, my heart pounding hard as the same video I posted—and deleted—starts playing. The jewelry in Olivia’s ear glimmers in the moonlit, and her black T-shirt makes her slender neck look warm and tan as she bends it back for the girl to kiss.

The account is registered to Vaudevillian Vix—not me—and it already has seven thousand views.  

No, no, no…

I shoot my eyes up to her. “What did you do?”

“You wanted it up, so it’s back up.”

“But I took it down,” I growl.

Goddammit, I took it down. I look back at my phone, scrolling the comments. Why would she do this? When did she do this? Before the fight? After?

“They won’t trace it back to you,” she assures, walking back to her locker and tossing the knife in. “It came from my phone.”

So why repost it then if not to screw me over?

“Take it down.” I charge over to her. “Take it down now.”

I don’t want people se…

“You’re not scared of Tryst Six?” She fixes her lip gloss in the mirror, extra red against her black shirt and black hair. “Well, I’m not scared of you, baby. Do what you will. Leave it up. Forever if it gets you off.” She turns and looks at me. “Every degrading comment and joke is for your pleasure, so enjoy it.”

Son of a bitch. What did I do? I knew this would happen. It would get saved before I had a chance to get it down, and now I can’t stop it.

I push her aside and pull her phone out of her locker. “Take it down now.” I hold her phone out to her, but before she can take it, I pull it back and swipe the screen, trying to do it myself. “Unlock this!” I yell at her. “Goddamn it, Jaeger!”

She pushes me back into the locker and grabs her phone, but I launch forward and shove her ass back.

“Scared now?” she taunts. “Huh? Feel violated when you’ve lost control of your property? How does that feel?”

I raise my hand, pointing in her face and shouting, “Take it down!”

But she grabs my wrists and twists them behind me, and I whimper at the ache as she backs me up into the lockers again.

“Because why?” she whispers in my face. “Say it. Say it. You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

I shake my head. She presses her forehead into mine hard, but I push back, giving as good as I get while I try to wrangle my hands free.

“You’re afraid, because your life is sad, and you want to gut anything that’s different.” Her breath falls on my lips, and I feel a light layer of sweat cover my back. “Anything that makes you feel strong, because at least it’s not dull, and it’s too painful not to feel, isn’t it? You’re afraid of me, because some day you’re going to wake up and remember that that video is still there, but I’m not, am I? I’m gone, living, and you’re not, because your brain is still in the fucking gutter.”

A sob lodges in my throat, and my body shakes.

She shakes her head at me. “You’re just afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” I tell her. “I’m…”

But I swallow, pushing the word back down my throat.


Tears fill my eyes, and I tighten every muscle in my body, forcing myself to get my shit together.

But I’m lost. She’s holding me, and I’m lost.

She stares at me, her eyebrows pinching together as something crosses her face and she watches me.

I clench my fists behind me as our noses brush and I hover a moment from her lips. “Livvy, I…”

My mouth rests open, the need to feel her overtaking me. I can’t…

I can’t…

I can’t stand it. I catch her mouth, our lips open and paused on each other, just feeling her as both us stop breathing.


And then, all at once, we’re in the shit.  

She releases my hands, and we both grab onto each other as she pushes me into the lockers again, our arms and hands wrapping around one another as her mouth sinks into mine.

I moan. Oh, God.

Our legs thread together, the heat between her thighs hitting my center, and she slips her hands under my skirt, squeezing my ass through my panties as we go at each other, kissing and nibbling.

I lick her tongue and groan, kissing her hard and fierce and closing my eyes, because everything is spinning, and my body is on a roller coaster. I’m fucking flying right now.

She lifts my leg, and we’re gone. Grinding and panting as I slip my hand up her shirt, pulling down her strap, so I can get my hand inside her bra. She dives down to my neck, and I tip my head back, letting her have it all. I want her. I want to feel her and kiss her and touch her everywhere.

Our lips come back together, again and again, eating each other up frantically. I brush her nipple, and my clit throbs.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she whispers, shaken. “Are you kidding me right now?”

I know, okay? I know. I wasn’t afraid. I was…

Jealous. I’ve wanted this since we were freshman, and that first day we met, before the fighting started.

And when I knew she liked me, I had to make her hate me. All these years…

She brings one hand up, grabbing the back of my neck and taking my bottom lip between her teeth. I pause, savoring the fire blazing inside my body.  

Our foreheads meet again. “We have to stop,” I murmur.

I fumble and squirm, trying to push her away, damn near in tears because I’m aching for this. I don’t want to let her go.

But she doesn’t let me. “No,” she bites out in a whisper. Her mouth crashes down on mine again, and I can’t fight. I hold her head, soaking up how soft she is. How beautiful she smells and how hot her mouth is.

I barely notice as she lifts up my skirt and yanks down my panties just enough to bare my sex, but then she fiddles with her own clothes between us, and in a moment, she’s on me. Her pussy rubs against mine, and I pull away from her mouth to moan as she grinds on me, the friction of our skin agonizing.

Agonizing but perfect. It’s hot and wet and…

She grips my ass, her head dipped into my shoulder as I wrap my arms around her neck and meet her rhythm, both of us fucking against the lockers.

I’m consumed. This is what it feels like.

This is what right feels like. It was always wrong before. Kissing someone. Letting them touch me. I never had that burn low in my belly.

I was never hungry.

Until her.

I sink into her mouth again, kissing, sucking, tasting…

At least there’s this.

I thought hating her was enough. If I couldn’t have this, at least I had her attention. Even if it was bad.

At least I could destroy what I was going to lose anyway in five months when we graduated, and I couldn’t look at her every day anymore.

But God, I do hate her. Her smile and her pink lips. The way she smudges her dumb eyeliner, making her eyes look smoky and captivating, and her wild hair that always looks like it flew through the wind before she put up in a ponytail.

Her olive skin, how her bracelets make music every time she moves, her chipped black nail polish, and those stupid biker boots with all the buckles she wears that make her legs so hard not to look at.

The way she rolls her skirt up, and I can’t pay attention in Calculus.

I hate it all. How every part of her looks like it has a taste.

I whimper as our pace gets faster, and I feel and hear her breathe hard, in and out as the friction turns heavenly.

And this isn’t even all we can do to each other.

“God,” I pant.

She hovers over my mouth. “Come to my shitty house tonight,” she demands. “Sweat with me between the sheets, huh?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

I want to sneak out. Into a dark place with Olivia Jaeger and do things.

But then a voice pierces the air. “Oh, I know!” someone says.

I pop my eyes open, stopping. What? 

Giggles and laughter follow, and I hear the creak of the locker room door.

Oh, shit. Ice courses down my veins as everything goes cold. This can’t…

I can’t…


Another voice follows. “And then he was like…”


I push at Olivia. “Get off me.”

She stumbles back, and I reach under my skirt, pulling up my panties.

Jesus Christ. I’m just a world of stupid today, aren’t I? Anyone could’ve seen us.

I step back over to my locker, avoiding Liv’s gaze as I check myself in the mirror, righting my clothes again and tightening my pony tail.

I see the wet wipes on the floor and kick the package back over to her.

Sweat seeps out of my pores as girls round the corner just in time, and I look up, seeing Amy Thornton and Krysten Tyler.

They stop, bags slung over their shoulders as their eyes dart from me to Olivia, noticing us tehre.

“Oh, hey,” Amy says.

Both of them stare at Live, struggling to contain their smiles until they finally break down in laughter like the cats that just ate the canary. Another punch of guilt hits me about the video. I cast a glance at Olivia and see her ignoring all of us as she as she pulls on a short black military jacket.

She won’t meet my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Krysten asks me, giving my back a sympathetic brush of her hand as she passes to her locker.

The knots in my stomach start to ease. I don’t think anyone saw us. The last time they saw me was when I was walked with Jaeger to the front office after the fight.

It takes a moment, but I let out a scoff. “Are you kidding?” I steel my spine and swipe my finger under my eye, fixing my eye liner. “Nothing is tastier than a piece of cake.”

They both laugh at my jibe, and I dart my eyes up again, finally catching Olivia’s.

Her head is turned toward me, staring at me with a mixture of pride and… wrath.

Like the threat of a secret. Our secret.

Someone clears their throat, and I blink, seeing Amy turned toward Olivia.  

“Would you mind?” Amy asks her.

Livvy looks over her shoulder at her.

“I don’t feel comfortable changing in front of you,” Amy explains.

I clench my jaw.

But Livvy remains silent.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to dull the embarrassment for Liv and tell Amy no one wants to look at her pancake nipples, but…

I don’t. Livvy stands there for a moment, as if waiting for something, but I just ignore her and finish touching up my face.

Her locker door slams closed, and I jerk, seeing her move out of the corner of my eye and walk toward me.  

She strolls past, knocking my shoulder with hers as she goes. “Don’t cross the tracks.”

And then she’s gone, her threat hanging in the air as the locker room fills with the P.E. class coming in.

I almost laugh. I have no plans to cross the tracks into her sector.

Until, of course, the senior scavenger hunt this weekend. She’ll have all night to finish that fight during Night Tide if she wants.

And if she can find me.


*Thank you for reading. Hope you love what’s to come!

2 Responses to “F/F Work in Progress”

  1. Tanya says:

    Wohooooooooo! Can’t wait!

  2. Stefanie says:

    ahhh I’m so excited for this