Eleven

First you wait to catch her eye again.

She knows you're still watching her, you're sure of it. Why else is her body still facing you when there's a girl, a tall and slender brunette as far as you can tell, at her side? The music certainly is loud at this party, but you aren't entirely convinced of the necessity for said girl to lean so close to Jane's ear saying something to provoke a few consecutive nods of her head of raven curls.

A familiar wave of heat whelms your body as your motion slows. You don't often feel like this, but you've already experienced it once or twice just tonight, however those were just lacklustre chills compared to this. This? You know exactly what this is – the j-word. You're j-word of that girl for having Jane's attention. Even though you can't even think the word right now, there's no use denying it to yourself of all people.

It isn't pleasant; you wish the feeling could be easily shed like water off a duck's back, but it won't seem to go away. Instead it takes root deep in your stomach, nagging at you to do something about it. Someone should because Jane is supposed to be spending the night with you – and your friends – and though you're never one to 'crotch-block', the rules were very clear about not hooking up tonight. Perfectly rational, you tell yourself wishing you had a second opinion to echo your thoughts and fortify their credibility. If that isn't a valid reason then...

It's hard to watch them, yet you just can't bring yourself to look away. Not too long ago that was you exchanging banter and sharing personal space with the coolest girl ever. You start to wonder what they could be talking about for this long. Then with all her nodding, a particularly errant strand of hair falls into your new friend's vision and she gives it an annoyed flick back away from her face; an often-practiced move you gather by its swiftness. You can't help but smile in spite of yourself. That's when she finally looks up at you, catches you grinning or whatever your face is doing right now and you almost forget your initial plan when you're struck by a sudden and familiar bolt of déjà vu.

That feeling of gravitating towards something larger than you; that slow-mo sensation as if a century is being stuffed into the span of a second. You begin to wonder if this is how it will always be whenever those brown eyes just look at you, if you'll ever fully get over it, but then the moment is over too soon because she starts laughing at something being said to her. This time she shakes her head at the girl but the smile on her face accompanying it makes it seem worse than any other reaction. To add to that, you finally catch a glimpse of the girl's face and to your growing disappointment she's quite attractive. Anna's earlier words echo in your ears. Stop staring so hard. So you start dancing.

Baby, this is what you came for

Lightning strikes every time she moves…

Now, if this were any typical mainstream movie scene, you would show off a few stunning dance moves and have her come running over to you in the snap of a finger because she just can't help herself but ditch her recent companion and break her apparent no dancing rule to join you in the middle of that ocean of bodies in motion, and so on and so forth. You don't watch movies like this that regularly, but clearly it's still far too often. Here's what actually happens:

Somewhere in the midst of shuffling to the electric beat, twirling and swaying like you're the hottest thing since the mother of dragons, you feel a heavy presence pressing its way behind your back. When you look up though, Jane is still talking to that other girl, and their bodies are now facing each other so all of her attention is decidedly elsewhere. The realisation only hurts for a second because when you glance over your shoulder it's some guy standing too close with a fully unbuttoned shirt on, and the way he's looking down at you with those bloodshot eyes makes your stomach flip unpleasantly. A suggestive "Hey beautiful,'' is tossed your way and he must take the brief eye contact for an invitation because he starts pressing up against you much closer than you're comfortable with.

You shift away from him, hoping he'll get the message, but he only follows you, his actions growing bolder as he lays his large hands on your hips to pull you closer to his well-nigh topless body. Having no patience for it, "I don't want to dance with you," you tell him while pushing against him in an attempt to distance yourself. Regrettably, even as intoxicated as he clearly is if his breath is anything to go by, he's still much stronger than you are so he barely moves.

"Just one dance. Come on, I don't bite," replies the guy. If anyone were watching they would clearly note the awkwardness of the embrace, but alas everyone is too pre-occupado.

"I still don't want to dance with you. So if you would just let go of me..."

He seems to comprehend, unhanding you without too much delay, but then declines his head to say, "Alright. If you don't wanna dance, then we can just go somewhere else? Get to know each other a bit? I'm Garrett, by the way."

You shake your head at him, getting a better look at him from a more comfortable distance and at a certain angle he almost looks familiar but you just can't place him at the time. "Sorry, Garrett. I'm really not interested. At. All."

"I knew it. You have a boyfriend, don't you? Is he here?"

"I don't have one but-"

"Then come on…," he whines a little, "This is what you came here for, isn't it; to meet a nice guy like me and have a good time? I promise you'll have fun." He smiles wide relying heavily on his conventionally handsome looks to seal the deal and thinking himself quite charming but really it's all wasted on you.

"No," you reply in no uncertain terms. "And my answer won't change."

You're glad he isn't as persistent as some of the more assiduous assholes you've encountered in your life when he shrugs it off, although still visibly a little disappointed and perhaps annoyed at the blunt answer, but thankfully he moves to leave you be. "Can't blame a guy for try- What the fuck!" he suddenly exclaims as he is propelled to the ground with a thud.

Without warning a head of wild raven curls blocks your view of the guy as a tall body quickly wedges itself in-between.

"What the fuck, man?" he winces, eyes even glossier than before from your limited view over her shoulder when he manages to stumble back onto his feet. "Whydja push me for!"

And then you hear Jane Rizzoli's voice in a tone you've never heard before and you hope you never have to hear it ever again, ever. She sounds livid as she shoves him hard in punctuation. "That's what happens to scumbags who can't take no for an answer." You're a little afraid of what else she might do when she turns to you, eyes searching. "You okay, Maur? Did he try anything with you?" Her voice is suddenly soft and soothing when directed at you whilst her nearest hand gently runs up and down the length of your arm to offer comfort. You have such a bad case of whiplash that you can't find enough words to string together, so you settle on shaking your head in the negative. You aren't sure which question you're answering though.

She turns back around advancing on him as she points a finger right in his rapidly sobering face and basically growls at him. "Listen to me, you piece of shit. If I see you anywhere near her again, you'll think this was just a love tap compared to what I'll do to you. You hear me?"

"But I didn't even-"

"I swear to God, man. You can either finish that sentence, or you can get the fuck outta here before I fuck you up: your choice."

You flinch at the sound of that tone. You didn't expect this sort of reaction to ever come from the girl who has been nothing but sweet and level-headed since you met her. The guy seems to want to get a word or punch in at first, only to look around and think better of it before cursing her out as he pushes his way through to elsewhere. The words 'crazy lesbians' jump at you but for the most part you can't really hear him because at this point all of your friends have you surrounded wanting to know what is going on. Voices talk at you and around you and the music is still blaring but your ears drown in white noise and your mind is both cluttered and blank at the same time. Some people are watching everything unfold while others have better things to focus on, and honestly so do you. Your wide eyes stay on her the entire time.

Jane speaks slowly, eyes searching yours to interpret your expression. "You sure you're okay?"

You realise you're forgetting something and finally let go of that breath you've been holding since she got here, longer than healthy. "I'm uhm… I'm fine."

Your friends keep quiet, sharing simultaneously curious and knowing looks amongst themselves and they say nothing when Jane gets you to agree to help her find another beer. It's a lame excuse and you all know it but nonetheless the pair of you disappear with her hand on your lower back.

"What on earth just happened?" you say a few minutes later as Jane elbows the door shut behind her, somewhat muffling the music from downstairs.

"What do you mean?" She puts down the bottle of beer she'd quickly nabbed and her hands are on your shoulders as her eyes bore into yours before you can brace yourself for the impact. "Don't you remember any of what just happened? Did he give you something to drink?"

"No, of course I wouldn't accept a drink from some strange guy and the effects of-" you shake your head, going back on course. "Jane, I mean why did you have to hit him?" This is the first time either of you notice you're actually angry for some reason and unfortunately she gets to take the brunt of your misguided anger. All you can think about is that girl leaning into her ear, making her laugh.

She throws her hands up. "He had his hands all over you! What was I supposed to do? Ask him politely to get lost? It was just a little push, he'll live alright."

You bite your lip, a little hesitant to continue. You're the one who had asked her if you could talk to her somewhere more private before storming upstairs to Alex's room and now that you're here in this confined space with her, you find yourself unwilling and unable to stall for a segue into the big rainbow-coloured elephant in the room. That entire incident has to be addressed and there is no time like the present.

"I had it under control, Jane. What you did was entirely unnecessary."

"Really now? You had it under control?" The way she scoffs at you lights your ire even more. "Then I'd hate to see your definition of outta control. Are you kidding me right now? You're mad at me? For saving you from that asshole?"

It's your turn to scoff and you give it your best try. "Saving me? You think you saved me?"

"Well, yeah. He was grabbing you and all over you and it didn't look like it was consensual, okay, Maura? So sue me!" The way she grabs her beer and twists the cap off is hostile but you don't falter in your diatribe.

"I know I may not look like much compared to you but do not mistake me for some damsel, Jane Rizzoli. I'm not the kind of girl who needs to be saved by anyone from anyone. You do not save me; I save myself. Let's be clear on that. And you can't just cause a scene like that; you don't get to just burst onto the scene – from wherever you were holed up – throwing punches like some Ringer Rosey wannabe!"

"Ronda Rousey! If you're gonna insult me, get it right. And again, I only pushed him."

"Oh, hush! You're a police officer for crying out loud! You don't get to just assault someone like that without provocation."

"So you wanna talk about provocation? Okay I'll give you provocation." You cross your arms over your chest in defence, feeling your nostrils flaring but you let her say her piece. Jane waves around the bottle still clutched in her hand as she rants. "Look, I'm sure you can take care of yourself usually, but I know guys like that, Maur. It's my job. If they think you're an easy target for whatever shit they have in mind, they won't let up until they get what they want. And I know exactly what that shithead wanted. It was obvious from halfway across the house. I mean, Rico Suave over there was half-undressed already. And I saw you struggling, okay, and no one else seemed to even fucking notice what was going the fuck on so I had to step in. Shit, I wasn't about to let him have his grubby paws all over you I mean who the fuck does he even think he fucking is, grabbing you like that? Like you're some kinda I don't even know. Fuck no; not on my watch. I'll tell you what, I shoulda done him worse. Fuck that guy, man, I was doing every girl here a favour by kicking him out. You know, scumbags like that…"

And as she goes on and on about how the guy was touching you and that she couldn't let him do that, not on her watch she keeps repeating, it suddenly clicks in your head and you feel the anger dissipate from your body language completely. Jane was watching you all along. You had her attention the entire time and you didn't even realise it. Her violent display makes sudden sense as well. Or at least you think so. You feel bold enough to test your theory.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you sounded jealous."

That seems to stop her dead in her tracks for a full five seconds. "I'm sorry what? Jealous?"

"Yes," you shrug unable to hold her accusing gaze any longer, "With the way you're acting."

Silence. She has a sip of her drink, contemplating something. More silence and you wish you had shut your mouth until she replies in the most forced tone you've ever heard from her. "You have a girlfriend. Why would I be jealous? That's about as likely as you being jealous of me talking to some other girl. And that's ridiculous, right? That isn't a thought I should even entertain, is it?" It almost sounds like she's asking for permission and you struggle with whether or not to give it, but in the end she's right. You have Denise. Neither of you are allowed to be jealous of each other, not to this extent.

"I suppose not."

She sighs wistfully and looks away from you. "Right, well…"

"Jane." Her arm muscles twitch where your hand has touched it and you almost wish she would do it again.

She's breathing more evenly than from when she got herself all riled up earlier and it's the most remarkable thing you've seen in some time. You don't know this Jane. You've known her passion, but never seen her fury. You felt her strength, but only now have you gotten to witness her aggression. You've glimpsed her protectiveness; but never her violence. Or her jealousy, which is a lot easier to throw around when it's about someone else. You've also never seen her look so dejected and it's heartbreaking. You want to wrap your arms around her and hug her but you aren't sure she would let you right now. Then you remember one more thing that puts all of these other things in perspective for you for once and for all; you don't know Jane. You don't know anything about her or her life before you met, really. For all intents and purposes she's still practically a stranger. The perfect kind. Even with the cracks starting to show in her façade.

"What?" she says when you just stare at her with a fresh pair of eyes.

"Okay," you tell her.

Her entire body deflates and she lets out a huff of air before taking a few gulps of her neglected beer. A few are all it takes for her to empty the bottle and toss it aside. You almost expect the look of confusion on her face. "Okay what?"

"Okay, you've made your point. And even though what you did… It wasn't entirely necessary." You ignore the roll of her eyes, forging ahead. "But I shouldn't have gotten mad at you for having my back, because that's what it comes down to. Hell, my friends have done worse in the past." This time her eye roll is much less irritated. "So, thank you for that."

She seems not to know what to say to that at first. "It's nothing," she brushes off uneasily, flexing her recently underutilised fist, seemingly testing its motion and you feel those tiny connected muscles move under your hand again.

"It's something to me," you say, meaning every word.

She looks at you with a raised brow and then her face softens. "Well, we're friends now. So get used to it." You share a smile and reluctantly let go of her.

Several moments pass with the pair of you standing quietly in Alex's room. Your fingers twitch to touch her in some way. There's also so much you want to say but Jane ultimately breaks the silence first.

She looks at you like she's expecting you to say something, mischief back in her eyes. "Just ask me."

You're genuinely lost when you say, "Ask you what?"

"You brought me up here for a reason, didn't you? You know what you really want to ask, so just ask already."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She just smirks, as ever, and casually moves over to get comfortable on the bed. You look away from the sight of Jane climbing onto a bed, eyes darting around Alex's room for a distraction.

There's an eclectic choice of books in-between a small aquarium and an Iron Man mask all sat on a single shelf right above a table shoved into one corner of the bedroom. On that is a no-doubt self-built dual screen gaming PC, an iPod dock, a few branded BCU trinkets and some school supplies all neatly in their place. The entire room is quite neatly kept even with the well-loved guitar on its stand on the floor beside the telescope planted in front of the open-curtained window and the obsessively vertical band posters on the door and above his bed... which brings you back to Jane, who looks at you patiently from her perch on the plain grey bedspread and matching pillows like she's right at home, and obviously she's smirking about something again.

"Is the snooping part of Alex's big test or are you just avoiding me again?"

Damn it, Rizzoli. At this rate she'll make detective before long. "Why would I be doing that?" you ask, noticing something on another wall.

"Cause you're afraid if you get too close, you might accidentally fall in love with me or something."

Your heart stops. What do you even say to that when it's the whole-hearted truth. She has you all figured out and it scares you. You can either acknowledge it or take the out she's given you by posing her statement as a joke. But you're at a frat party right now. It's neither the time nor place and you won't let her get one up on you this time. "Says the girl who wears shoes to bed. How can I resist?"

"You're more than welcome to take them off," she taunts wiggling her feet.

"Don't think I won't," you reply wishing you could take that smirk off her face instead.

"I dare you."

"Really? Are we reverting back to childish whims now?"

"It's my default state, actually. Maybe later we can braid each other's hair and play ring-a-ring-a-rosey." She laughs belly-deep at her own joke.

"I'll never live that down, will I?" You say walking over to a board up on one of the walls with a few post cards pinned onto it but mostly some lovely ink drawings and go closer for further inspection; some light snooping on Susie's behalf you tell yourself. Definitely not to hide your blush. What blush? Silence blankets the room once more and in order to break the ice yet again, you say the first thing to pop into your head. "So, where's your friend… that girl from earlier…?" Was that a good enough segue, you wonder; casual enough?

Jane laughs once like she's got one over on you so that's a no then. "Girl, you say? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Maura."

She's going to make this hard, isn't she? "The pretty brunette you were talking to downstairs…"

"Oh… So you think she's pretty?"

You turn around and lean against the wall. Jane looks away from the stars on the ceiling to you with a twinkle in her eyes. "Don't you?"

"I don't know. I wasn't really paying as much attention."

You fold your arms. "Well it didn't look like it."

"Guess it depends on who's looking, huh?"

"You were looking pretty closely. How could you not notice?"

"I dunno. You were staring pretty hard over there so you tell me what had me so distracted from this allegedly pretty girl?"

That seems to shut you up long enough for the standard comeback period to time out. You're not mad though, in fact you're a little pleased with yourself tonight. Even though you didn't know it at the time and it didn't go the way you planned, your ridiculous attention-seeking plan had worked. You head back over to the desk to play with the iPod dock nearby and turn it on, only to catch a fright and immediately turn it back off when a loud cacophony of almost indiscernible noise is emitted. Heavy metal was never your cup of tea, but Alex is looking more and more Susie-tailored by the second.

Jane laughs at your little flinch but she goes on to say, "Here's a question for ya: Why did Cooper drive us here instead of you?"

"I…" you contemplate divulging the full reason, but it would bring the mood down. "I prefer to avoid driving in the rain," you say instead. You try to make a joke to make the moment pass quicker. "And she loves my car more than me."

"I see."

"You sound," disappointed, "like you were expecting something else?"

"No, it's just- I was hoping you just maybe wanted to be near me."

"Well then…" You know you won't be able to blame alcohol for what you're about to say next, but screw it. You've come this far already and Jane is meeting you halfway, baring her soul in a roundabout fashion. Lately you find that you like a little danger every now and then – what's one more step closer to the point of no return. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Another moment passes, slowly stretching itself between the two of you like an elastic band about to break from all the tension being applied to it. It's a little weird just staring into someone's eyes this way.

"Are you?" she asks. "Here, I mean? Or is your mind on something somewhere else?"

"I'm here," you say although unsure what she might mean by that.

"Prove it."

The way Jane says it is like a challenge dipped in a warning with hundreds and thousands of little red flags sprinkled all over it. Who are you to resist?

You look around Alex's desk and find a sharpie, taking it with you when you go and sit down beside her on the bed, feet on the floor. She doesn't hesitate to give you some room, donning a curious smirk for the occasion, but even you haven't a clue what you're doing. "Give me your hand." A quirk of her dark brow is all the resistance you receive this time before the warmth of her nearest palm is pressed against yours. You swallow at the contact, then turn her hand over to write a big capital M as neatly as you can on your friend's open palm. It comes out a little asymmetrical but you know that if you try to correct its posture things can only get less legible. "There, now there's physical proof that I'm here. Satisfied?"

She takes her hand back, has a glance then holds it back out again. "Here. Decorate it."

"Okay… but you'll have to take your shoes off of Alex's clean bed." She gives you the biggest eye-roll yet, but does it anyway with a groan.

"Happy?"

"Yes." And girl do you mean it. Even on a good day, you know you couldn't compete with the artwork on the rest of her body, but this seemingly menial task of marking her skin in this temporary way, being allowed to put your own little stamp of 'I Was Here'. For tonight, this small patch of slightly calloused and invitingly warm skin is yours to do with as you wish. Your muse; your canvas. "So tell me about your very first tattoo."

At first all you get is a long drawn out uhm. The story behind it must be a good one then. As she tells it you have to almost laugh at yourself as you create your masterpiece because it's really quite horrendous. You never did inherit the artistic talent your mother makes her living off of. Even your siblings are at least decent. But then something Jane says gives you pause. You look up and ask, "Wait. You threw up?"

She uses her free thumb to scratch her eyebrow. "Well, like I said I'd been drinking that night, quite a bit, and the pain… God, the pain. I'm not great with it. I'm probably one of the worst people to tattoo, ever."

You laugh at her and she doesn't seem to mind. "I'm sorry, I just never would have guessed since you have so many."

"Yeah, well it gets better, or worse. For me anyway. I had to go in and cover it up because the dickhead I'd stumbled upon did such a shitty job at it. I was lucky it didn't get infected but I guess it served me right for mixing alcohol with ink."

"Well it doesn't seem you've learnt your lesson quite yet," you say gesturing to your task without letting her see what you're up to.

"I trust you." She says it so nonchalantly, moving along with her story as if it was nothing. But this girl just confessed to trusting you even after everything, and it's not nothing. "So I had to woman up, y'know. Found this chick online, visited her shop and looked at some of her drawings. She had a cool style and overall vibe, so I just went for it. Still hurt like a motherbitch but I didn't throw up this time, and when it came out the way it did, I was hooked, man. So I've been going back since. Sober."

"Do you plan to cover your entire body?"

"We'll see. I don't really know. You thinking of getting one?"

You squint your eyes in thought. It had never even occurred to you. Your mother might have a stroke but you haven't ever really thought about getting a tattoo before. You've always just admired them on other people's bodies. You were there when Anna got her first and last tattoo on her ribs and although it came out beautifully you weren't falling over yourself to get one. "I don't really know that it's for me. We'll see. So what were you covering up?"

"Ugh" she groans, turning bright pink from the anticipation of embarrassment, "It's pretty cliché, but I was in love so."

"No," you laugh.

"Yes. I covered up my ex's name. Misspelt, by the way so even if we hadn't broken up I would have had to have it redone. Last time I put anyone's name on my body though, I'll tell you that much. But luckily it wasn't too big or dark."

"May I see it?"

"Wanna see if you can spot the cover-up?" You nod. "Alright," she sighs. She leans into you to make it easier to lift her shirt up. A shiver runs through your entire body, but you get yourself to focus. You don't even ask to touch it. Your self-control must be coming back.

It's raining and dark outside the window and muffled music is playing from the party downstairs and Jane is talking about her tattoos and then other random things to clarify the stories behind each one and the banter is hilarious but not as funny as your finally finished product. To be quite honest, you've been done for a while now, basically just retracing over the same lines just to have her hand in your lap a little longer, your other hand holding onto her thumb and keeping her palm open. It's all just so perfect you don't want it to end.

She gets suspicious when you continue to laugh for no apparent reason, and maybe it's not even that funny at all outside of your own head. She starts to pull her hand away. "No wait I'm not done yet."

"If you aren't done by now then my hand must be huge."

"Well," you say suggestively.

"My hand is not huge!"

"Fine," you roll your eyes a bit; you can't exactly hold her hand hostage now can you? You let her pull away and await her reaction.

"This just might break the internet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She whips out her phone and a camera flash illuminates her decorated hand soon after.

"What are you up to, Rizzoli?"

"Oh nothing... By the way, random question, totally unrelated to the current conversation: What's your Instagram name?"

You gasp. "You wouldn't."

"Ah, but I would. Let me guess it then."

"Because that went so well for you the last time you went on a guessing spree."

"I got what I was looking for in the end didn't I?"

"Touché. But you'll never guess it." You're pretty confident in that and were you the betting type you would have bet anything that she wouldn't.

"Interesting... So what's the story behind constant chuckles?"

You do a double-take, talking fast as your mind struggles to process. "My parents' names. How did you find my account so quickly?"

"Firstly, I'm a cop, a damn good one at that. Secondly, your name isn't that common. And lastly, Anna told me ages ago."

"What? When? Why?"

She doesn't say anything more, already so focused on her mission with a playful glint in her beautiful chocolate eyes. Just brown eyes, you correct yourself. Just eyes you re-correct yourself. You really need to stop thinking like this.

Your curiosity gets the best (or worst) of you so you toe your shoes off and sit up on your knees, pushing your hair all over one shoulder and then settling against Jane's side for a better view of her phone. Her eyes leave her screen then, but only for a moment. The blue-ish light illuminates both of your faces as you bite your smile, reading along.

'instazzoli Just got some new ink at a college party. Luckily the artist constantchuckles is really cute so I can't complain. #BlameItOnTheAlcohol #InkAboutIt #TemporaryTattoo #TGISharpie #LifeLongBestFriendsForever'

You almost fall over when she presses the virtual button to post, but you really don't mind. You kinda love it, in fact.

You aren't sure how long you two spend laughing. Your stomach hurts and tears are running down your face, which is undoubtedly pink from giggling like a madwoman. "Life-long best friends forever?"

She clears her throat, also struggling to contain her mirth. "Yeah, LLBFFs for short."

"Elbiffs?"

"I think we could be, don't you think so?"

You lay your head on her shoulder and get very comfortable like it's second nature, humming out the last few notes of laughter. She still smells really good and if she's uncomfortable it doesn't show. "Yes, I'd like that."

She clears her throat before saying, "Hey, wanna see something cool?"

"Yes please."

She proceeds to retrieve her earphones from her pocket, connects them to the phone allowing you to share an earbud each (and allowing you to keep your head in its new home) before scrolling through some hilarious Instagram posts and soon switches over to some YouTube videos she thinks are hilarious. Mostly you laugh in reaction to her laughing because it's so contagious. Your earnest comments seem to crack her up for some reason and this goes on for a while until her battery runs low.

Then you abandon the internet, and begrudgingly your place on her shoulder, for some slightly more personal conversation. You ask her about herself and she asks you to tell her some embarrassing stories. It isn't a fair trade, you think, but you're finally at a point where you don't mind looking a little silly in front of her so you exchange the embarrassing story of how you were kicked out of Debate Club for being too 'wordy' for one of her own about how she was pranked at the academy when her colleagues let her think she actually broke her bed somehow. You tell her about how your senior prom date left with the prom king and she tells you that her first tattoo debacle counts as an embarrassing story so you have to go again. She's sneaky like that but it keeps you on your toes. Keeping things light and above the belt, it goes on like that for a while until you can't stand to laugh anymore. At some point you just laugh whenever you even just look at each other, competing to see who can keep a straight face longest.

And to think that for a second there you wanted to leave early for home. No, you're exactly where you're supposed to be. Nothing else matters but this moment. The future can wait.

Eventually the girls find the pair of you cozied up on the bed and it's time to get your coats and umbrellas and return home. The night must end. You and Jane share one last almost sombre look before getting up and ready to leave in the no longer pouring rain and with your girlfriend at your place the sleepover is cancelled.

When you settle into bed that night after brushing your teeth and a quick shower, lying beside your sleeping girlfriend, you wrestle a smile thinking about what a great time you had with Jane and the quick nudge she gave you before parting ways. You decide to make a little visit online to find you've been mentioned in quite a few Instagram posts. Mostly from Anna…

The first pic is a full-length shot of her posing with an umbrella in front of your car. You double-tap it because your friend is looking hot. There are a few more similar to this, one with Riley driving, one with a smiling Susie texting in the backseat and so on. Scrolling further down you're surprised to find a candid shot of you and Jane laughing together in the kitchen while your hand clutches her arm. It's a little darker than the rest so she must not have used a flash, the sly little devil, but it looks so intimate what with the way she's staring at you.

'Look at these beautiful girls,' writes annathegladiator and among the excessive amount of tags is #IShipThis.

Double-tap. Copy share url. Saved.

You feel the grin on your face widen as you keep scrolling searching to find anymore photos with you in it but past the pics of Anna posing with a bottle of vodka, Susie sitting on a couch next to Alex deep in conversation and lastly a surprising video of Riley behind the DJ decks at the party getting the crowd to do the mannequin challenge, there's nothing more.

Apart from Anna, no one else has posted anything except for Jane so you go into her account following instazzoli and double-tapping that ridiculous picture of Jane's left hand.

You type out a quick comment before finally allowing yourself to call it a night, snuggling up as best you can to Denise who hasn't moved an inch since you left earlier that night.

'constantchuckles Really cute you say?'

A/N: Suh dudes. I'd like to extend my undying gratitude to everyone who has either glanced at the summary and kept scrolling, those who read the first paragraph and opted out, the few who kept reading to the end and regretted it, the brave souls who followed this story and realized they'd never get those months (or years) of their life back, or finally those who decided to channel all their confusion, anger and disappointment into a well-written, thoughtful, honest and constructively critical review of my fiction story telling skills. I've been there, the struggle is real. Thank you for sticking with Messy for this long, and good luck in future should you decide to start writing your own stories exactly the way you want them written so you're no longer disappointed.

To those who still like my story after all these years, or minutes depending on when you hopped on the bus, I love the fact that your heart and mind are so open that you can find even the slightest bit of joy in what little I have to offer. I love the fact that whenever you can you share those nice thoughts with me, a fellow human being from across the world. Your words, as simple as they may seem, as easy as they may be to type out, mean so much to me. I don't care if English isn't your mother tongue (FYI: mine is isiZulu) I only care about the sentiment. And I may forget to reply to reviews sometimes but whenever I read them I feel like I did something worth doing despite the madness behind the scenes of my life, and shared it with someone worth sharing with despite the fact of never having met them. Thank you.

I-A-I