Seamlessly (Chaennie)

Chapter 3

Rosie nearly jumped out of her chair in surprise when Jennie shot through her apartment door, carrying a box of random items, settling them on her kitchen table with a huff. She was dressed casually, her brunette locks tied behind her in a low ponytail.

Rosie rolled her eyes as Jennie's unceremonious slamming of the door behind her knocked over the little wooden chess pieces she'd been busying herself with. Scrambling to pick them up and return them to their designated spots on the board, she felt Jennie gaping at her, her blue gaze boring into Rosie's general direction.

She felt nervous, fluttery and unsure of herself under that gaze, and that gaze alone.

It was pathetic.

"Chess?" Jennie scoffed. "By yourself? Seriously?"

"Hello, Jennie." Rosie drawled in exasperation.

"Hello, nerd." Jennie grinned, sitting across from her with a huff, eyes catching the way the light framed Rosie angelically as she clenched her jaw in focus.

"Was the art of knocking not part of your...intensive art schooling and education?" Rosie asked plainly, emerald eyes glinting with humor.

Jennie smirked. "Girlfriends don't knock."

Rosie glanced up in surprise, mouth parting slightly. "I...right." She sighed, shaking her head.

Why, oh why, did Jennie do that to her? She was bright, the best of her class. She was more than capable of coming up with witty responses, and Jennie was just a bubbly, funny,...beautiful, intelligent....

Focus, Rosie.

"So...I seemed to have walked in on you playing with yourself."

Rosie's jaw actually dropped this time as a crimson blush made its way to her cheeks, her now shaking hand knocking over a poor bishop.
Well, that comment was unholy, wasn't it? Poor Bishop.

Jennie bit her lip to keep from laughing at her own juvenile joke. "You okay there, slick?" She smirked.

Rosie took in a sharp breath, steadying herself. "This game requires focus, Jen."

Jennie reached over and propped the bishop back up, eyes never leaving Rosie's gaze. "Sorry." She murmured, but her voice was clearly unapologetic.

"Let's...see what you have..." Rosie made a motion to rise, but Jennie caught her wrist.

"No, Rosie..." Jennie stifled a laugh. "That can wait. We have, like, months. Let's play."

Rosie's eyes widened in surprise as she slowly sat back down, wrist burning where Jennie touched her. "You...know how to play?"

Jennie rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Rosie."

Rosie immediately reproached herself mentally. "I...That's not what I meant. I...it's just...from what I gather, you were the...cool girl, in school. The socialite with fantastic art skills and no time for...menial games."

Jennie quirked a brow, wearing a smirk. "You weren't cool? No way." Jennie folded her arms over her chest, leaning back in her seat.

Rosie shook her head. "No one wants to be friends with the foster kid, Jennie." She spoke like it was an old wound that had scarred over without ever completely healing.

Jennie's very soul ached for Rosie.

She'd heard the stories. Rosie was a product of the foster system, sent from house to house until her final years of high school, where she'd forced herself to get perfect grades for scholarships to prestigious schools.

And she'd become an incredibly astute business major, in the hopes that she could provide for herself.

It was, seemingly, much more noble than Jennie's history of wealth and overbearing family.