Jerrie Oneshot Book

Inspiration

Summary: When Jade gets an assignment to draw something beautiful, without a second thought, she will always pick Perrie.

Draw something beautiful, they said. She picks Perrie before the sentence is finished, before she can wonder if her professor knows everything she creates is the same thing – that it's all Perrie, from the abstract swirls of blue and green, to the half-finished sketches in fully packed sketchbooks.

Draw something beautiful, they said. Jade picks Perrie before the sentence is finished, has been picking Perrie long before – even if she never has the courage to be quite so honest about it, even if all her honesty comes pouring out as pictures instead of real words.

Her hands.

She starts with an outline. Gentle graphite strokes that speak of protruding knuckles, dancing bones and long fingers – the very first things Jade ever noticed about her.

It was a Tuesday like any other as Jade stepped inside the chemistry classroom, waiting for her best friend, Leigh-Anne, to have lunch with her.

A Tuesday like any other until her eyes found Perrie. Not that she knew her name yet. Just the way the blonde's hands scribbled as she stared down at her sample. Unwavering. Precise. Beautiful.

She stared until Perrie noticed which caused Jade to stumble into a piece of invaluable equipment. Perrie called her clumsy in a way that made her heart trip over its strings but had no real sting and with cautious hands swept up the mess Jade promised to pay for.

One day, as luck would have it, Jade conveniently forgot that Leigh-Anne had skipped the chemistry class and talked Perrie into coming to the student café with her instead.

Perrie laughed at her jokes, and it was the beginning of something. A friendship that Perrie accepted easily with answering to every single one of Jade's 4am questions, gentle words of encouragement on her art pieces, and heart emojis that made Jade's heart feel anything but gentle.

Something started and it felt like everything.

Her torso.

Her chest and stomach. The sharpness of her clavicle. The tempting curve of her hips.

Each new line is a moment for Jade to lose herself in the memory of the exacerbated rise and fall of Perrie's chest when she got really into the story she was telling – like she couldn't inhale enough air to get her words out, couldn't find the oxygen needed to share her mind (Jade would give every molecule in her lungs to listen to her speak a little longer).

There's a tremble to the lead line that comes alongside the fragment of memory dedicated to the soft skin of Perrie's stomach. The skin Jade caught a glimpse of and never forgot.

Movie night began with Perrie's open door and the blonde adorned with disheveled hair, dark circles and a jumper that swallowed her arms but just barely reached the hem of her sweatpants. It began with Perrie looking more adorable than she had any right to and Jade knowing she needed to distract herself from it in whatever way possible.

She doesn't know why she thought tickling would be the right answer. It didn't help at all when Perrie screamed and squirmed out of her grasp, nor when she slipped her voice into something more comfortable to warn Jade away, nor when Jade ignored her threat and tackled her to the couch and kept going and going and going until her fingertips grazed skin.

Then she froze.

Then everything just felt... hot.

Like Jade had stuck her hand into a flame and forgotten to pull it back out. She wanted nothing more than to let it engulf her again. She had never been more willing to char her skin, to scar the feeling of Perrie onto her palm so that all any mystic could see in her future was Perrie.