What’s love got to do with it?
Warm-ups are a blur. Jackie’s not listening to the coach. She’s not listening to Van cracking jokes or Tai hyping up the scrimmage.
She’s staring at the hickey on Shauna’s neck.
It’s faint, half-covered by her collar, but it’s there. Shadowy. Intimate. A fingerprint in bruise-form. And Jackie can’t unsee it.
Shauna doesn’t even notice it’s showing. She’s just out there in one of Lottie’s oversized soccer shirts, hair tied up like it’s nothing, existing like her mouth hasn’t been somewhere.
Jackie misses two kicks during drills. She finally fakes a cramp and slips behind the bleachers.
⸻
Tai finds her five minutes later, crouched by her duffel bag, untying and retying her cleats with aggressive, trembling fingers.
“You’re spiraling,” Tai says, tone flat.
Jackie doesn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
“Sure. Is this a turf-induced breakdown or…?”
Jackie blows out a sharp breath. “Okay. It’s not a thing. It’s not, like, a real thing.”
Tai waits.
“I just—I noticed something. Something kind of, like, bold happening right in front of all of us and no one seems to be talking about it.”
Tai raises a brow. “Define bold.”
Jackie crosses her arms. “Brazen. Shameless. Hussy-like.”
Tai blinks. “…Hussy?”
“You know what I mean,” Jackie says, flustered. “It’s not about her. It’s about respect. And self-awareness. And neck coverage.”
Tai stares. “So… it’s about Shauna?”
Jackie’s eyes snap up. “No. Why would it be?”
Tai gives her a look.
“It’s about Jeff, okay?” Jackie blurts. “He’s been different lately.”
“Different how?”
“Just. Like. Weird. And distant. And shady. And possibly gay. I don’t know.”
Tai squints. “You think Jeff gave Shauna a hickey?”
“What?! No!” Jackie’s face flushes bright red. “I mean—obviously not. I just meant… symbolically. As a metaphor.”
Tai folds her arms. “A metaphor for…?”
“Infidelity.” Jackie nods, like that explains it. “Emotional infidelity.”
Tai says nothing.
Jackie doubles down. “I’m just saying, if your boyfriend suddenly starts acting suspicious and then someone else starts showing up to practice with a mark on her—on their—visible collar region, that’s, like, definitely related somehow.”
Tai exhales. “Girl. You’re jealous of Lottie.”
Jackie’s voice rises. “I’m not jealous!”
Tai says nothing.
Jackie huffs. “I just think… it’s gross.”
“Sure.”
“I mean, who does that? Who shows up to school looking like they’ve been—” Jackie cuts herself off, waving a hand. “Neck-attacked.”
Tai laughs. “Neck-attacked?”
Jackie groans and presses her palms to her face. “I hate everyone.”
“You hate one person.”
“Two,” Jackie mumbles. “Jeff, remember?”
Tai tilts her head, smirking. “He’s innocent in this hypothetical metaphor crime.”
Jackie pulls her knees to her chest. “Then why does it feel like I’m the one who got left behind?”
Tai softens.
Jackie mutters, “I mean—Jeff did. That’s what I meant.”
Tai doesn’t call her out again. She just sits with her, quiet, while practice whistles echo across the field.
Shauna’s laugh carries through the air.
Jackie doesn’t look.
But she hears it.
And it stays lodged in her chest