The first time 18-year-old Jennie saw her face splashed across tabloids and celebrity gossip sites, she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Okay, not literally. (Though that's what she told anyone who would listen.)
What she really wanted to do, for a brief and tumultuous period, was quit the business.
She just wanted to make music. She was okay with performing as an entrée into the producing arena. But what she was not okay with, was her private life being up for grabs, open to public consumption, used as revenue-driving clickbait.
Intellectually, she understood that some level of public scrutiny came hand-in-hand with fame. She'd just naively thought that it wouldn't happen to her.
She's boring. She likes sweatpants and staying in and going to bed at a reasonable hour.
Which is exactly what she wants to tell the assembled mass of paparazzi that has been camping out near the set ever since she and Lisa were photographed at that club.
It's a different group from the local Boston media photogs who had snapped a few pics when they first started filming. The security detail says these guys are from New York, sent up here specifically to cover the Untitled Julliard Project and some DiCaprio film that is also shooting in town.
So that's great.
Naturally, the fan accounts have been having a field day with all the Content™. Jennie can't go on Instagram without seeing some random shot of her and Lisa just standing around between takes, paired with flailing, emoji-riddled captions about '#jenlisa'.
When Jennie calls Mino to complain, he's not exactly sympathetic. He goes on and on about how he and the rest of her team are loving the publicity. The studio PR flacks are happy too, since it's generating great buzz for the movie.
"Chill out, hun. I don't see the problem, " Mino tells her when she tries to protest. "Just enjoy it."
Jennie almost hangs up on him.
Mino may not see a problem, but she does. Several problems, in fact.
Primarily, her problem is that none of this is anyone's business.
It's also embarrassing, since in the original photos in question she was clearly drunk.
And since it's true.
It'd be one thing if it was some completely fabricated rumor. The fact that it's real — that the whole world knows about it while she hasn't even grappled with how she feels — makes her skin crawl.
And on a more practical level, there's the problem of the laser focus directed at her and Lisa while on set.
Which means they have to start sneaking around.
(Which is actually kind of hot.)
*
If Lisa has any hangups about this whole thing, she doesn't let it show.
"They've always said the craziest stuff about me," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I swear, no one believes half of what the gossip sites write anyway. Try not to worry about it so much, Jen."
*
But Jennie does worry about it.
She also worries about this thing between her and Lisa. Before they'd hooked up, she'd written it off as just a crush, but now...
Well, now she doesn't know.
Jennie can't have a crush.
(Or feelings.)
(Or whatever).
That hasn't changed.
But, she decides, what she can have is casual sex — and the way she reacts to Lisa's touch just proves how much she needs it.
*
The tension that was strung between Jennie and Lisa that rainy day — when Jennie had succumbed to her feelings in Lisa's trailer and then, later, in her own bed — hasn't abated.
If anything, it's gotten worse.
Napping is essentially off the table. And they're more sleep-deprived than ever, but they can't keep their hands off each other.
It's harder, with the increased attention, but they still manage. When there's downtime they head to one of their trailers with scripts prominently in hand, telling the PAs they're going to run lines and to let them know if they're needed.
Once they're safely inside — once they quietly click the lock into place and subtly draw the shades — the outside world fades away.
At first, they limit their alone time activities to making out. They are professionals, after all. This is a workplace. Their coworkers — and the media — are literally right outside the door.
It feels agonizingly young and sweet, those first few days, as they sit upright on the couch and kiss like teenagers. But, it turns out, they can only keep that up for so long. One day, Jennie, needing to get closer, climbs into Lisa's lap and then, a few days later, Lisa pushes Jennie onto her back against the cushions.
Not long after that, the unofficial rules they've set for themselves go out the window. They find they can no longer wait until shooting wraps up for the night, when they can rush home to explore each other's bodies in the privacy of their beds.
Instead, they become impatient and insatiable, and downright risky.
They take risks in the cramped trailer bathroom, where Lisa sits Jennie on the sink and makes her come with her hand beneath her skirt.
They take risks against the just-closed door, where Jennie kneels before Lisa and pulls her jeans to her ankles, moaning when her tongue discovers how wet she is already.
They take risks on the poor, worn-out sofa, where Jennie desperately rides Lisa's fingers, so lost in the moment that Lisa has to clamp her hand over Jennie's mouth to muffle her rising cries.
Jennie knows behaving like this is dumb and wrong and, like, objectively fucked up. And she does feel guilty — she does — but she begins to crave these illicit, heady moments when they get each other off as quickly and quietly as they can.
That's not to say there aren't downsides. Sometimes they're interrupted by a knock on the door and have to rush to fix their clothing, wet and uncomfortable, before they've found release. And Jennie has to send her laundry out more often, now that she needs to bring an extra pair of underwear to set each day.
Occasionally Jennie worries they're taking it too far. Like when they skip out on a cast and crew dinner, for example, because they've been riling each other up all day and they need to run home to relieve the tension.
Or when every so often, Lisa calls her 'baby' right before she comes.
(Jennie writes that last one off as just one of those Lisa Things.)
*
It pops into her head out of nowhere.
Jennie's leaning on the kitchenette counter at the far end of the trailer when it happens.
Just minutes before Lisa had pressed her back against the Formica, slipped her hand down her pants, and made her come in record time. Jennie was still catching her breath when Lisa took her wrist and guided her fingers where she needed them, rocking against Jennie and nearly making a mess of her jeans.
Now Lisa's in the bathroom freshening up and Jennie's suddenly awake and alert. In her mind, she can hear it clear as day: a melody, in a minor key.
A new melody.
This hasn't happened in a while.
Her brain is firing on all cylinders as she imagines the beat that might accompany it, how the arrangement could come together. She hums the melody to herself, bringing it to life gently, like a flame that might flicker out. She stands up straight and sings it again, a little louder this time.
It's good, Jennie thinks, heart rate rising with excitement. Turning in a slow circle, she scans the room for her phone, only to spot it on the countertop right behind her. She opens her voice notes app, hits 'record,' and sings the tune again, smiling at how confident she sounds this time.
"That was beautiful."
Jennie startles and spins around to see Lisa standing by the bathroom door. She steels herself for some kind of joke — ready for Lisa to ask how Jennie could forget she was here when she was just moaning Lisa's name a few minutes ago — but it doesn't come.
Instead, Lisa just stands there, watching her with soft eyes that Jennie can't quite make sense of.
"What was that?" she asks, taking a step closer. "I don't think I know it."
"Oh I, um..." Jennie stammers. She places her phone on the counter. "No, you wouldn't. It's new. It just, like, came to me I guess."
Lisa raises her eyebrows and gapes at Jennie like she just told her she found the cure for carpal tunnel. (Something Jennie could actually use, these days, what with all the repetitive movem— you know what, never mind.)
"It just... came to you? Like, it didn't exist in the world until a few minutes ago?"
Lisa closes the distance between them and, as she takes Jennie's hands, Jennie feels her cheeks heat up.
"I mean, I don't want to claim that no one in the world has ever strung those notes together before. But yeah, it's, like, new. As far as I know."
Lisa shakes her head in amazement. "That's unbelievable."
Jennie huffs out a laugh, looking down at their joined hands. "It's really not a big deal."
"It is to me," Lisa says quietly. She smooths her thumb across Jennie's knuckles, giving her goosebumps. "You're so talented, Jen."
It's not like Jennie hasn't been praised before. She has, a lot — probably more than she deserves. But Lisa's words resonate differently; maybe because they're filled with something like reverence.
Jennie's mind travels back to that day in the LA recording studio, when Lisa sat beside her and said she was seeing a different side of her. She wonders if Lisa's thinking that now, but it's too overwhelming, so she makes herself stop.
"Thanks," she mutters lamely.
Lisa cups her cheek, getting her to meet her eyes.
"Sing it again?"
Jennie laughs. "Oh my god, no."
But Lisa, unsurprisingly, is undeterred. She brushes her thumb over Jennie's cheekbone and makes this little pout that Jennie can never resist.
"Please?"
Jennie sighs, rolls her eyes as dramatically as she can, and starts to sing the melody again. When Lisa joins in, harmonizing note for note, Jennie can't help but smile.
It's weird, singing with someone when they're standing so close, but she can't tear her gaze away from Lisa's. It feels... intimate.
Vulnerable.
Intoxicating.
(Terrifying.)
Jennie holds the last note for a few seconds to draw the moment out and Lisa matches her until the very end. When it's over, the only thing Jennie hears is the drum of her pulse in her ears.
"Wow," she breathes. Both of their chests are heaving. "That was even better tha—"
But she doesn't get to finish her sentence, because Lisa sways forward and kisses her.
*
It's not until a PA summons them back to set a few minutes later that Jennie realizes she never stopped recording on her phone.
*
Jennie duplicates the file and sends an edited version to Mino and the rest of her team.
Mino [7:50 p.m.]: wow! absolutely loving this jennie. everyone's super excited.
Mino [7:51 p.m.]: does this mean your music inspo might be making a comeback? 👀
*
They start spending the night at each other's places so often, that soon it feels less like two separate apartments and more like a multi-story townhouse.
Lisa was right in her initial read on Jennie's ceilings — they are slightly higher than hers. But Lisa's apartment has a lot going for it too. It's big and bright and has an expansive kitchen island, which is topped with Carrara marble that is so high-end it's almost soft to the touch.
There's a balcony off the back, facing the river, just large enough for a table and a pair of chairs. Jennie likes it when they get home early enough to sit out there at sunset, sharing a bottle of wine away from prying eyes.
It turns out that Jennie has a better master bath, with a spacious glass-walled shower and a deep soaker tub. She isn't really one for baths, on account that she gets bored. But Lisa absolutely loves them, apparently, and whenever she convinces Jennie to get in with her she makes it worth her while.
When they have late call times Lisa makes them eggs for breakfast. They eat on barstools at her kitchen counter, sipping two mugs of French press that Jennie insists on making herself. (She's very particular about her coffee.)
It all starts to feel rather domestic.
And if Jennie allowed herself to think about that too much, she'd freak out. So when those thoughts arise, she doesn't let them linger.
*
While parts of their, like, tryst or whatever are becoming more routine, the riskiness of it all doesn't diminish.
In fact, they're racking up so many close calls that Jennie fears they're really pushing their luck.
The paparazzi continue to be up their ass. While Jennie and Lisa have gotten skilled at keeping their distance from each other when in-view of the cameras, some dick with a long lens still manages to get a shot of them walking into Lisa's trailer.
(The #jenlisa mentions skyrocket once it's released. A sick part of Jennie can't help but imagine how the anonymous masses would react if they knew what happened minutes later, when Lisa bunched Jennie's hair in her hand and guided her onto her knees.)
In addition to the ever-present paps, Jennie worries their colleagues on set are beginning to get suspicious too. It's hard not to notice the pointed looks between Sam and the makeup girls whenever they have to cover up a hickey on Jennie's neck, collarbone, or — one mortifying time — cleavage.
("I don't mean to, Jen, I swear," Lisa says when Jennie calls her on it. "You just bruise easily! And it's not like you ever try to stop me.")
Then there's the incident on Acorn Street, a cobblestone-lined lane in Beacon Hill. Both ends of the street are cordoned off, effectively keeping the paparazzi out of range. For the first time in ages, Jennie and Lisa can let their guard down.
It's getting colder out, as fall draws nearer. Even though the locals are still in shorts and flip-flops, the cooler temperatures and steady breeze prove to be too much for LA girls, and Jennie and Lisa bundle up in long puffer coats between takes.
After two painstaking hours of shooting and resetting, Jennie's teeth start chattering. She tries her best to hide it, standing off to the side of the craft services table, but when a PA brings her a packet of hand warmers she knows she isn't fooling anyone.
Jennie's icy fingers are struggling to open the plastic packaging when Lisa notices.
"Aww, poor baby." Her face becomes the picture of sympathy, with sad eyes and an exaggerated pout. "Come here."
Lisa unzips her jacket and holds it open, looking at Jennie expectantly. And if they didn't have hours of shooting ahead of them — if Jennie wasn't so damn cold — she'd probably be able to resist.
But she isn't.
It's almost embarrassing how quickly she shoves the hand warmers in her pocket and walks up to Lisa. She slips her hands under Lisa's jacket, instantly drawn in by the heat of her. She wraps her arms around her waist and presses her nose to the side of her neck. Lisa hums happily and closes the jacket around her
"My poor tiny baby," Lisa says, hugging her closer. "You're shivering like a leaf."
"It's not my fault! I'm, like, gonna get hypothermia out here."
Lisa chuckles. "It's 60 degrees, Jen."
"Ugh, whatever," she grumbles. "Shut up."
Jennie's mistake, in retrospect, is letting her eyelids flutter closed. But she's finally warming up after being cold for hours, so she closes her eyes and breathes Lisa in. It's all too easy after that, to forget that they're on set with dozens of crew members milling around nearby.
Maybe that's why Jennie dips her fingers under the hem of Lisa's shirt, pressing her hands to the small of her back, soaking in the warmth of her skin. When Lisa shivers, Jennie feels it down to her toes.
"Cold?" she asks, smirking against Lisa's neck.
"Mmhm."
Jennie's only trying to tease when she pushes her hands higher up Lisa's spine. She wants to use her chilly fingertips against her, to make Lisa shiver and squirm away. What she doesn't anticipate is that her hands have warmed, now, or that the action causes Lisa's shirt to ride up her body.
She doesn't anticipate the soft groan that Lisa breathes against her ear.
And she definitely doesn't anticipate how that sound will flow through her, heating her up in earnest from the inside out.
She exhales sharply, nails digging into Lisa's skin. "Lis."
"Excuse me, Ms. Kim? Is everything okay?"
Jennie's eyes fly open and land on the concerned face of the First AD, who's about two feet in front of her. She stands up straight and slowly withdraws her hands from beneath Lisa's shirt, hoping he can't make out the movement beneath the bulky jacket.
"Oh, um, uh-huh." Her voice is strained so she clears her throat. "I'm all good. Just got a bit chilly."
"I was helping to warm her up," Lisa says, making a show of rubbing her hands up and down Jennie's arms. "I run hot."
He smiles and leaves, seemingly pacified, but Jennie doesn't think she'll ever stop blushing.
"Tease," Lisa whispers. She gently pushes Jennie away and zips up her jacket. "Can't take you anywhere."
*
Two-thirds of the way through their time in Boston they finally get a proper day off.
It's Jennie's idea to rent a car and drive up the coast. She was obsessed with witches as a kid — thanks, in large part, to 'Hocus Pocus' — and she just can't miss the opportunity to visit Salem.
Lisa's eyes had lit up when Jennie floated the idea to her a few days earlier. She threw herself into research mode, looking up reviews on TripAdvisor and asking local extras for recommendations.
When the day off arrives, she proudly presents Jennie with the fruits of her labor in the form of a typed-up paper itinerary.
"You're, like, so ridiculous," Jennie tells her, fighting back a smile. "Where'd you even find a printer?"
Lisa grins. "I have my ways."
*
Jennie drives and Lisa navigates. It's rough getting out of the city — the traffic rivals LA's and the people are fucking aggressive — but once they're on the highway Lisa syncs her phone with the car's sound system.
"I made us a custom road trip playlist," she says, shimmying her shoulders.
"Of course you did." Jennie rolls her eyes, but her annoyance must not be very convincing because Lisa just giggles. "$20 says you have 'Monster Mash' or 'Thriller' on here."
Lisa lifts her chin. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. I happen to be renowned for my playlist skills. You're not the only one with good taste in music, Jen."
After a few songs, Jennie readily concedes that it is a good mix. Lisa selected classic karaoke favorites, top 40 hits from the early aughts, and some tracks from up-and-coming artists that Jennie's surprised (and impressed) she's heard of.
It isn't necessarily a scenic drive, but as they belt out song after song, Jennie hardly notices. She can't remember the last time she felt this carefree.
This happy.
She keeps sneaking glances toward the passenger seat. Lisa's in a maxi dress and sandals, with big sunglasses over her eyes. And Jennie knows she was going for a casual look, but even with no makeup and a messy bun, Lisa's still so beautiful.
"What?" she asks the third time she catches Jennie looking.
Jennie shrugs and turns back to the road, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.
"Nothing."
*
The first stop on their mini road trip is, of course, in Salem.
It's a bit kitschy, with witch-themed shops on every corner, but it still has the charm of a coastal New England town. They park at a public lot and meander down the streets, window shopping and taking photos for their Finstas. Despite trying to keep a low profile — Lisa in her sunglasses and Jennie in a black baseball hat — they occasionally get recognized, but no one stops them to take a selfie, so Jennie considers that a win.
They visit the Salem Witch Museum, which is somehow both lame and creepy. Jennie is particularly unsettled by the animatronic Puritans depicting various types of torture and death inflicted on the trials' victims.
Of course, the best part of any museum is the gift shop, and Jennie buys an overpriced "crystal ball" to console herself. It's a chintzy green-tinted glass orb, but her 10-year-old self would've loved it so she can't resist. Maybe she'll put it on the shelf in her living room, next to her MTV Moonman.
Her interior design plans are interrupted when she catches Lisa smirking as they leave the store.
Jennie narrows her eyes. "Pipe down."
"I didn't say anything."
"But you were going to."
"Wow." Lisa arches an eyebrow. "That was fast."
"What?"
"You only bought that crystal ball a minute ago and you already have the power of sight!"
Jennie throws her head back and groans. "I hate you so much right now."
Lisa snickers and links their arms together as they set off down the street.
"Please. No, you don't."
(No, she really doesn't.)
*
Next, they head to a swanky town called Marblehead. It used to be part of Salem, Lisa says, and there's a 17th-century seaside graveyard where some of the witches were buried.
("Well that's a relief," Jennie tells Lisa after she explains their next stop. "Not gonna lie, when I saw 'graveyard' on the itinerary I got kinda nervous.")
First, they stop at a high-end deli — suggested by one of the extras — and get sandwiches to go. It takes a little while to navigate the town's narrow winding roads, but they eventually find their way and park on a quiet side street.
Lisa leads them up a hill, and Jennie's starting to wonder if they're in the wrong place when they reach the top of the knoll. They're looking down at a grassy slope, speckled with crooked gravestones. In the distance is a row of weathered colonial houses and, beyond that, the ocean.
"Woah," Jennie whispers, slowing to a stop.
They're the only two people here, in this forgotten cemetery. The graves are so old they're nearly smooth, the lettering almost lost to wind and water and time.
It's quiet and breathtaking, with sunlight filtering down through the clouds, and it hits her that the corny displays they saw in the museum depicted real events that happened to real people — some of whom are buried here.
Lisa stands beside her. "What are you thinking about?"
"I dunno. I just..." Jennie sighs. "It's kinda crazy that something so fucked up happened somewhere so beautiful. Like, those poor women — and that one guy, I guess — they were probably just like us, you know? It's all just hitting me, I guess."
Lisa rubs her back as they take in the landscape in silence. After a minute she mutters a quiet "oh" under her breath and walks off to the right.
Jennie stays there, lost in thought, until Lisa reappears at her side. She's holding a bunch of blue and yellow wildflowers.
"Come on," she says, taking Jennie's hand. "Let's pay them a visit."
*
The gazebo at the top of the cemetery was practically made for picnics. They sit on the stone bench and eat their sandwiches while looking down at the view.
Jennie's thoroughly enjoying her lunch — all this tourist shit really made her work up an appetite — when she feels Lisa's eyes on her.
"What?" she asks, turning toward her. "I can practically see your little gears turning in there."
She takes a sip from her water bottle as Lisa rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
"I was just thinking about how this is probably the longest amount of time we've spent together without having sex."
Jennie nearly does a spit-take. "Jesus, Lisa," she hisses when she recovers. "And we're not doing that here, if that's what you're thinking."
"Calm down, even I'm not that depraved." She glances around the gazebo. "Though I bet people have done it here before."
"Oh my god."
"But my point was, we spend a lot of time together but we haven't talked a whole lot, you know?"
Jennie furrows her brow. "We talk all the time. You're, like, the main person I talk to."
"I know," Lisa says softly. "I just mean, we haven't talked talked. Like, I don't know... do you get along with your parents?"
Jennie blows out a slow breath. "You sure that's where you want to start? Because that's a long and complicated story."
Lisa smiles. "I don't mind long and complicated."
So Jennie tells her. She explains how hard it was when her parents broke up, how she felt like she was being split in two.
She usually hates talking about this stuff, but Lisa's listening intently — like she genuinely cares — and Jennie finds the words keep coming. Soon she's sharing details she's only discussed with her therapist. She talks about the big and small ways her parents' divorce impacted her life. That it's why she moved to LA straight after high school, why she struggles with trust, why she's bad at maintaining serious relationships.
"Well, that and that no one I've dated seems willing to put up with my crazy schedule," she says, chuckling half-heartedly.
Lisa takes Jennie's hand and runs her thumb across her knuckles. There's a stitch between her eyebrows and she looks like she wants to say something, but there's a lump forming in Jennie's throat and she can't handle any sympathy right now.
"Anyway, that's my deal," she says in a rush. "Should I pretend I didn't read your Vogue cover and ask if your perfect and supportive parents are still together?"
Lisa's lips part and she falters for a second, like she didn't want to move on just yet. Jennie looks away, taking her hand back and reaching for the bag of chips. She's relieved when she hears Lisa laugh.
"No, of course, you don't have to pretend. They're still together and they're, like, the best. But I wouldn't say they're perfect."
"No?" Jennie crosses her legs and angles herself toward Lisa, sensing an opportunity to tease. "If I remember correctly, they both quit their jobs to help their darling little girl achieve her dream of becoming an actress. Must have been tough — all that undivided parental attention and all."
Lisa laughs humorlessly. "It's not as altruistic as it sounds. My mom was a waitress and my dad worked odd jobs here and there. Managing their 12-year-old's career was the best way to actually put food on the table."
Jennie frowns, watching Lisa as she looks down at her feet. She remembers another article she read at some point about Lisa's charity work; it said that many of the organizations address food insecurity for needy kids, many of whom only get a full meal at school.
"Shit, sorry I..." Jennie swallows thickly, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. "I shouldn't have made assumptions like that. I hate when people do that."
Lisa looks over at her and shrugs dismissively. "Please, it's fine. You couldn't have known."
"Still..." Jennie bites the inside of her mouth, wondering how she can make this better. She reaches for Lisa's hand and squeezes. "That must have been hard. Like, that's a lot of pressure to put on a kid."
Lisa turns her hand over and laces their fingers together.
"It wasn't easy at first," she admits. "But we got through it together. They really are the best, though. I think you'd like them." She pulls Jennie's hand into her lap. "I know they'd love you."
*
They pass most of the drive back to the city in contented silence. They're sleepy and a little bit sunburnt, which Sam and the makeup girls are so not going to love.
Jennie zones out on the highway, completely lost in thought. Her mind keeps going back to the moment in the gazebo when Lisa alluded to her tough childhood. She can't stop kicking herself for making that glib comment. She, of all people, should know that no one's life is perfect, no matter how it seems.
Once she tries to shake off the guilt (another thing she's working on in therapy), the resounding feeling she's left with is awe.
Lisa's been through so much. She faced hardships growing up, began financially supporting her family, and navigated young fame — all before Jennie's parents split up.
She's already overcome more obstacles than most people face in a lifetime and still turned out to be a humble, optimistic, big-hearted, amazing woman.
And, to Jennie, that's nothing short of miraculous.
*
The sun has just set when Jennie and Lisa get back to their brownstone, but Jennie is already longing for bed. She suppresses the urge to yawn as they walk up the stairs.
When they reach her floor they pause outside of Jennie's door. She notices that their hands are linked again — she doesn't remember when that happened.
Lisa sways their arms back and forth in the space between them. Jennie doesn't know why, but she feels slightly nervous.
"I had, like, the best time today," Lisa says. "I should go shower..." Instead of turning to go up to her apartment, she steps closer. "But..."
She pulls their joined hands up to her chest, tugging Jennie forward and closing the remaining gap between them. She cradles Jennie's face with her other hand, and Jennie's heart picks up when Lisa leans in.
She kisses her softly and tenderly in the middle of the dim hallway, with their arms wedged between them. It makes Jennie feel delicate, being kissed like this — carefully, like she's something precious. She sighs when Lisa's nose presses into her cheek, grasps Lisa's waist when she sucks on Jennie's bottom lip.
But all too soon — before Jennie has a chance to deepen the kiss — Lisa's stepping away.
"There," she says, pressing her lips together. Her smile is almost shy. "Had to kiss you goodnight at the door like a proper date."
She slowly walks backward toward the stairs. Jennie holds onto her hand, letting her arm stretch out before her, as Lisa moves away until only the tips of their fingers are touching.
Lisa hesitates and studies Jennie's face for a couple beats before letting her arm fall to her side.
"Blink the porch light three times once you get in, okay?" She winks, biting her bottom lip. "That way I'll know you're safe."
Jennie rolls her eyes at the cheesy high school line, even as her stomach flips.
"Uh-huh, sure. I'll get right on that. Then I'll log on to AIM, put up a cryptic song lyric away message, and wait for you to IM me."
Lisa grins. "I can't wait."
She gives Jennie one last lingering look before heading upstairs.
*
Jennie doesn't flash the lights once she gets inside — because they're in an apartment building and that's not a thing — but she leans back against the door and sighs.
She's off-kilter in a way she can't quite place. She feels flushed and light from Lisa's kiss, but there's something else there too. It takes her a moment to recognize it — the familiar weight of anxiety sitting low in her stomach.
It takes her even longer to locate its source. She closes her eyes and plays back the last few minutes in her mind. When she finds it, she can practically hear alarm sirens blaring in her head.
A date.
Lisa called today a date.
.