Stupidly Hot || Jackie Taylor || No crash AU || Present Time AU ||

Chapter Six || Hickey

My heart quickens as Jackie's gasp fills the room, her reaction pulling my attention away from my phone and focusing it squarely on her. A sense of anticipation hangs in the air, the atmosphere charged with unspoken questions that swirl between us. "What?" I inquire, my curiosity piqued as I close the distance between us.

Jackie turns around, revealing the undeniable mark on her neck. Her exclamation cuts through the silence, a mixture of surprise and disbelief coloring her words. A grin spreads across my face, a blend of amusement and something more difficult to define. "I didn't mean to do that, but I don't even feel bad about it," I admit with a mumbled confession, the truth ringing in my voice.

My gaze remains fixed on the mark, a vivid reminder of the impulsive moments that had unfolded earlier. The realization that I've left an unmistakable sign on her skin is both exhilarating and disconcerting, a testament to the raw connection we share. "How am I meant to cover this up?" she laments, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. "Uh, makeup?" I offer, a practical suggestion that falls somewhat short in the moment. "I didn't bring any foundation." She says.

Jackie's groan echoes my own sentiments, and I rack my brain for a solution. "Lottie did," I recall, a spark of inspiration lighting up the room. Jackie's frown remains, a mixture of reluctance and consideration evident in her expression. "But how are we meant to explain it to her?" she questions, her skepticism lingering in the air.

A nonchalant shrug escapes me, a gesture that carries the weight of trust. "She won't tell anyone," I assure her, my voice carrying a level of conviction that I hope will put her at ease. Jackie's eyes roll in response, a mixture of resignation and playful annoyance.

Without hesitation, she takes control of the situation, grabbing my forearm and guiding me toward the front door. As we step into the hallway, her actions shield the hickey from prying eyes.

"Which room's hers?" she inquires, her voice hushed, a mixture of secrecy and urgency punctuating her words. The gravity of the situation settles over us, the need to navigate the aftermath of our impulsive choices becoming more apparent with each passing second. As we move forward, I can't help but marvel at the complexity of emotions that weave through our interactions, the uncharted territory of this connection stretching out before us.

Approaching room 46, a sense of anticipation courses through my veins, a mix of nervous energy and determination propelling me forward. The rhythmic thumping of my heart mirrors the beat of the music that had once enveloped us on the dance floor. With a knock on the door, I find myself standing on the precipice of a pivotal moment, my mind racing as I await a response.

The door swings open, revealing Nat's familiar face, her curious expression giving way to recognition as she takes in the situation. "Is Lottie back?" I inquire, my voice carrying a hint of urgency. Nat's nod is all the confirmation I need, and she ushers us into the room, her unspoken invitation allowing us to enter this newfound sanctuary.

Lottie sits on her bed, her attention focused on the glow of her phone screen. The air is charged with tension, each passing second intensifying the weight of the request that lingers on my lips. Summoning my resolve, I turn to Lottie, my words carrying a sense of vulnerability. "Lots, can we use your foundation?" I ask, my voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Lottie's raised eyebrows and puzzled expression draw my gaze, and a silent exchange passes between Jackie and me. With a subtle yet meaningful gesture, Jackie unveils the mark on her neck, a testament to the unguarded moments we shared earlier. Lottie's eyes widen in response, her surprise evident as she takes in the undeniable evidence before her. The room seems to hold its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

As Nat's eyes focus on the mark, her gaze sharp and discerning, Lottie's attention remains locked on me, a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and something deeper simmering beneath the surface. Nat's inquiry breaks the silence, her words direct and probing. "Who gave you that?" she asks, the weight of her question pressing upon us.