Training (Jenlisa Adaptation)

Jennie

FOUR YEARS LATER

Bloodthunders through my veins and I close my eyes, shuddering, pulling the covers up to my chin. In my head, her soft skin slides under me. Her breasts press and tremble against mine, soft and warm. My thigh pushes between her legs, my fingers tighten on her wrists, my lips press against her throat, burning. My legs tense and shake, and a bead of sweat dribbles down the back of my neck. I clench the bedsheets, my body tightening like a spring, waiting for the impact that's getting closer, and closer, and—

And nothing.

My breath leaves me in a gasp. I flop back on my mattress, pulling my hand out from under the waistband of my jeans, and stare at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. A machine-gun bassline thumps painfully through my bedroom walls. It's Friday night, and my flatmates are getting ready to go clubbing.

A tear drips down the side of my nose and soaks into my bedsheet.

When I pull myself together and head into the party, the room is brimming with acid-bright coloured light, distorted and shifting over glittery faces like ocean waves. Bodies jump and tangle in the dark. Someone's cracked out the glow sticks, and they're shimmering up and down everybody's arms like electric jewellery.

"JENNIE!" I turn and see a guy with an orange-dyed mohawk and a hockey jacket leaning over my kitchen table. I have never seen him before in my life. He waves a bottle of lemonade at me. "Wanna drink?"

I scan the room. Everyone seems to be having fun. I watch as two of my flatmates collapse on my sofa, snogging deeply. I don't even remember the last time I kissed someone. What's the point? Kissing just leads to sex. I'd rather save myself the disappointment.

"Yeah, thanks." I don't normally drink, but I'm way too sad to handle this party sober.

Mohawk hands me a plastic cup. "There you are, babe. Vodka lemonade." I take a deep swig, and it burns my mouth so hard I almost gag. His breath is hot in my ear. "Yeah, it's the cheap stuff. Best just down it." He taps his cup to mine and throws it back, gulping it down in one.

I fucking hate the taste of alcohol. The only way I'll get it down is by necking it, so I do the same, tossing it back. I make it through almost the whole cup before sputtering and coming up for air.

"That's a good girl," he grins, wrapping his arm around my waist. I try to push him off me, but he just tightens his grip. "Aw come on, baby, loosen up."

I shove at him again. "I'm not interested." No response. "Get off."

A voice pipes up from behind me. "Aaron, who the hell invited you? And what the fuck are you doing with Jennie?" Every muscle in my body relaxes as my best friend Lisa pushes through the crowd, tugging me out of his arms. She glares at Mohawk over my shoulder. "She's mine."

"Jesus. Fine." He lifts up his hands. "Can I at least watch?"

"No." She kisses my cheek, nuzzling me. She smells like perfume and whiskey. My heart flutters. "Get the fuck out of my house, you little creep."

He slinks off into the crowd. "My name's not Jennifer," I find myself telling her, yet again. "It's Jennie. Jennie. No one calls me Jennifer."

"Why? Have they never looked at you?" She twirls me around to face her and drags her eyes down my dress. "Wow. Fuck. You look so hot, babe."

So does she. Her blonde hair is freshly washed from practise, falling down past her shoulders, and she's wearing a black strappy top that shows off the subtle muscle in her arms. I take another swallow of my drink to avoid staring at the soft, white swell of her boobs over the neckline of her shirt. She's so beautiful it makes my head spin.