Teaching The Bad Girl To Be Good (Lesbian Story)

Chapterd 4: What? I am sobbber

JAY

Mari was quiet, too quiet, her head resting heavily on my shoulder. Ever since she came back from that phone call, something felt off. The usual spark in her eyes had dimmed, and she hadn't said a word except for the half-hearted chuckle she gave when I gulped down the last of the champagne. The music played softly in the background, blending with the sound of clinking glasses and muted conversations, but even our favorite pie couldn't break her silence. She'd only taken two bites, pushing the plate aside like it didn't matter.

"M-Maaaay I ask what's wrooonng with you?" I hiccuped slightly, feeling the bubbles of the champagne hitting me harder than I expected. I leaned in closer to her, searching her face for some sort of clue. She gave me a small, tired smile.

"I'll talk to you when you're sober," she chuckled, her voice tinged with something heavier than humor. I pouted, staring down at the empty flute with a sense of betrayal.

"What! I am soberrr what do you mean?" I muttered, a bit too defensively.

"Yeah, right, Jay." Her eyes softened for a moment. "I promise I'll tell you tomorrow." But I could feel it—a lie. She was using the alcohol as an excuse to brush me off.

"Pinky promise?" I held out my hand, as if that childish gesture would make it real. She humored me, locking her pinky with mine before gently pulling away.

Before I could press her further, Mr. Fields approached the table, his presence always so steady and commanding, like he had the ability to calm a room without saying much. "Father-daughter dance?" His smile was warm as he held out his hand to Mari. She smiled back, standing up.

"Stay put, Jay!" she urged, throwing a quick glance my way. I groaned dramatically but nodded, slumping back in my chair. Marvin's eyes darted over the empty flutes on the table before landing on me, his brows knitting together.

"Are you okay, Jay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. His gaze flicked back to Mari, whose smile had tightened.

"Uh, I gave her a painkiller because she had a terrible headache," she lied swiftly. "But I kinda forgot it was a sleeping pill, too." Her voice wavered just enough for me to catch it, but Marvin chuckled, buying into her story.

"Well, you two should head home before her face lands in that pie." He let out a hearty laugh, his hand resting lightly on Mari's shoulder.

"N-no, I'm fine Marvin. Father-daughter dance, yay!" I cheered, throwing in an awkward salute. Mari threw me a look, and I knew she was pleading with me to quit while I was ahead. But how could I, when everything felt so fuzzy and warm?

Marvin just chuckled again, leading Mari toward the dance floor. I watched them go, a pit of jealousy forming in my stomach. The way he smiled at her, the way she relaxed around him—it reminded me of something I hadn't felt in years. The last time I danced with my dad was at my cousin's sweet sixteen, almost twelve years ago. I blinked away the thought, reaching for another glass, but this time, my hand was intercepted by someone else.

"You've had way too much to drink," a familiar voice teased, and I didn't need to look up to know who it was. Ky. Her shadow loomed over me, that devious smirk playing on her lips.

"Did I?" I muttered, not really caring. Speaking of drinks, I could use two more. Anything to keep that memory of my dad at bay. Or maybe it was Sean I was trying to drown out. Maybe both.

Ky slid into the chair next to me, her eyes sharp and amused. "Yeah, you did. But don't worry. Last time I showed up, I was wasted and high." She added the last part with a nonchalant shrug, as if it would make me feel better about being a drunken mess at this stupid banquet.

I laughed, though it wasn't funny. "Sharing stories are we? Should I care?" My words came out slurred, but I didn't care. Ky was beautiful, undeniably so, and that just made me angrier. Of course Sean had been with her. She was everything I wasn't—bold, confident, careless.

Ky's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing with amusement. "Just trying to inform you that this 'banquet' is a joke. You always run into people you either slept with or people who slept with someone you know."

Her words hit a nerve. I could feel my blood heating. "Oh, you'd know all about that," I shot back. "Seeing as you slept with my boyfriend."

Ky's smirk didn't falter, but her eyes darkened slightly. "Ex-boyfriend, sweetheart. And I didn't fuck Peters. I don't play that side of the field." Her tone was casual, but the jab was clear.

"Right." I laughed bitterly. "You know, it wasn't a stick. It was more like a cucumber." The words tumbled out, and I burst into laughter at my own absurdity. Champagne definitely wasn't helping my filter.

"Please, spare me the details." Ky groaned, rolling her eyes. "I don't care about his... anatomy." Her voice was sharp now, but it only fueled my drunken defiance.

"You wanna dance?" she asked suddenly, as if the question was a throwaway, something to distract me from my drunken spiral.

"Why?" I asked, eyeing her suspiciously. There were plenty of guys here, bored and half-interested. Why me?

"Just come on, you drunk." She grabbed my hand before I could protest, pulling me up with surprising gentleness.

---

Once we were on the dance floor, Ky's hands found their place on my waist, while my arms hung awkwardly at my sides. The heat of her hands seeped through the fabric of my dress, grounding me in a way I didn't expect. My heart raced—not from attraction, but from something else. Fear? Guilt? I didn't know anymore.

"Can you not stand like that?" she whispered, her lips close to my ear. "You're so stiff. It's like I'm dancing with a mannequin."

I tried to relax, forcing myself to lean into her touch, but it felt foreign. Everything about this felt foreign. "Sorry," I mumbled, stepping on her foot clumsily. "It's just... weird dancing with..."

"A girl?" she finished for me, her eyes searching mine. I nodded, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah, I get it. But it's not a big deal, Jay." Her tone softened, and for a moment, I forgot about all the eyes on us.

We swayed to the music, and as awkward as I was, Ky led us effortlessly, keeping the pace. My head swam with the mix of alcohol and emotion, and I found myself resting my head against her shoulder, letting the music blur into the background.

"You're a b-bitch, though," I slurred, earning a low chuckle from her.

"Ouch." Her voice was playful, but I knew she didn't care. She had been called worse, I was sure. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had crossed some line.

"Yeah... b-but you're also... really beautiful." The words slipped out before I could stop them. I wasn't even sure what I meant by them. All I knew was that, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't in control.