whenever I'm alone with you
Monday morning dragged in slow, thick with a heat that pressed down like a heavy hand, making everything feel just a little harder to carry. The sun bled through the thin curtains of Nat’s room, turning the dust in the air golden. The house was quiet, same as most mornings, Alex gone to work, Rory dropped at daycare, their mom either passed out or half-watching some daytime TV with a drink in her hand.
So, really, it was just another day.
Nat laid on her bed, flipping through an old skate mag, not really reading, just staring at the blurry photos of half-pipes and Ollies like they might tell her something. Van had let himself in sometime after Alex left, he was on the floor, back against the dresser, scrolling on his phone while music droned softly from the speaker on Nat’s desk, some fuzzy shoegaze track he’d picked. A joint burned between them, the smoke curling lazily in the air.
Nat exhaled, head rolling off the edge of the bed, looking at Van upside down. She felt hazy—not gone, but close.
Van stretched an arm out, flicking her hair. “You’re quiet.” His voice cut through the hum.
Nat snorted, the sound rough in her throat. “So?” She took a long drag, ash falling onto her bedroom floor.
“So,” Van said, taking the joint from her fingers, “that usually means you’re thinking about something you don’t wanna say out loud.”
Nat rolled her eyes, the motion exaggerated in her haze. “Jesus, you’re annoying.”
Van grinned, unfazed. “It’s Lottie, isn’t it?”
She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Not everything is about Lottie.”
Van raised a brow, passing the joint back, his eyes glinting with that smug, knowing look he got when he thought he’d cracked her. “Okay, but this is.”
Nat didn’t answer. Just took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle in her lungs until it burned. Her gaze drifting to her phone lying face-up on the bed, screen dark.
She hadn’t texted.
She could. Right now. Just a simple hey. See if Lottie still wanted to hang out. But that would mean something, wouldn’t it? Admitting she’d been chewing on it all weekend, replaying their time at the pool.
Van nudged her again, jostling her out of it. “C’mon. What’s stopping you?”
Nat exhaled smoke, tapping her thumb restlessly against the lighter in her hand. “I don’t know, man.”
Van tilted his head. “Do you want to?”
Nat didn’t answer right away, the question sinking low, heavy like the heat pressing through the walls.
Because yeah, of course she wanted to.
Lottie was easy to be around. Made her feel—fuck, she didn’t even know. It wasn’t like with other girls, quick, heated and fleeting, wasn’t like those dumb party kisses she barely thought twice about. It was something else. Something softer, steadier.
And that was terrifying.
She sighed, rolling over, head perched in her hand, facing Van. “You think she was serious?”
Van gave her an incredulous look, like she’d asked if the sky was blue. “Bro. She asked you out. She did more than I did with Tai.”
Nat flinched at that word, cutting through the haze. “Okay, no. It wasn’t like that.”
Van smirked, leaning back against the dresser. “It was like that.”
Nat groaned. “I don’t date.”
Van rolled his eyes, the joint glowing as he took a hit. “You don’t date because you don’t want to, or because you’re scared to?”
Nat shot him a glare, flicking his ear hard, red hair flying out as he yelped. “Ow, bitch,” he whined, swatting at her hand.
She huffed, turning back to look at the ceiling. “I don’t know, dude. It’s just Lottie, y’know? She’s nice to everyone.” Nat sounded unsure of herself. Those words used to mean something, now they sound like a weak excuse.
Van raised a brow, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And does she play footsie with everyone? Hold everyone’s hand like she never wants to let go?”
Nat’s stomach flipped, a quick sharp twist that made her breath catch. She groaned again, pressing the joint to her lips to drown it out. “Shut the fuck up.”
Van snickered, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Just text her, bro. What’s the worst that happens? She ghosts you? So what? You’ve ghosted plenty of girls.”
Nat exhaled smoke, watching it swirl toward the ceiling. “Yeah, but that’s different.”
Van tilted his head, his grin softening into something curious. “Why?”
Nat didn’t have an answer for that. Not one she could say out loud.
And that was the real problem, wasn’t it?
Nat finally gave in, took a long drag, exhaled, and—fuck it. She handed Van the joint and grabbed her phone, thumbs hovering over the screen as her pulse kicked in. Van watched like it’s the most important moment of his life, leaning closer, eyes wide.
“What do I even say?” Nat muttered, half to herself, half to him.
Van smirked. “Hey, babe, I miss you, let’s run away together.”
Nat groaned, shoving his shoulder. “Be serious.”
Van grinned, relenting. “Fine. Keep it cool. Like, Wanna do something?”
Nat rolled her eyes but typed it out, staring at the words, simple, safe, not too much. Then, before she could second-guess—send.
Van leaned over, wide-eyed. “Holy shit. You actually did it.”
Nat didn’t answer. Just stared at the screen, heartbeat thudding in her throat. The little “…” bubble popped up almost immediately.
Lottie:Thought you’d never ask. My place?
Nat swallowed. Her thumbs move on their own, her brain hadn’t caught up.
Nat:Be there in 20.
Van whistled low, long and dramatic. “Damn. What are you gonna wear?”
Nat scoffed. “Not you trying to style me.”
“Hey, I just want my bestie to look hot for her—”
Nat smacked him before he could finish, but she was already standing, already moving. She didn’t let herself think too hard about it.
*******
Nat skated over.
She didn’t think about it—she threw on whatever’s clean, hand-me-down shorts and a faded Talking Heads tee, and grabbed her board and pushed off down the street, the wind cutting through the thick summer heat. The weed she smoked earlier had mostly worn off, but the restlessness remained. She hadn’t even realized what she was doing until she was standing at Lottie’s stupidly tall gate, texting her.
Nat:open up I'm out
A pause. Then—
Lottie:Oh?
Lottie:Be right there.
Nat rolled her eyes but still felt that twist in her gut when the gate slowly creaked open.
Lottie was barefoot when she met her at the door. Nat gulped as she took her in, short little sundress that stopped mid-thigh, showing off her endless legs. Soft sage green with tiny floral pattern scattered across it, and it hugged Lottie’s waist just- Nat’s eyes shot up, Lottie was watching her with a knowing little smirk on her lips. “Skated all the way here? Impressive.”
“Try lazy,” Nat muttered, kicking her board up into her hands. “Didn’t feel like walking.”
Lottie hummed like she didn’t believe her but didn’t push. “Come on.”
She led Nat upstairs, and just like that, they were in her room.
Nat had been here before multiple times, years back—middle school chaos, sleepovers—but never like this. Never just them.
The air smelled like eucalyptus and something floral, a candle burning on the windowsill, lazy wisps of smoke curling toward the ceiling. The walls were a gallery of neatly arranged posters—The Smashing Pumpkins, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Fiona Apple, and Patti Smith—good taste, Nat noted, her eyes drifting over the details. A crate of vinyls sat beside a sleek record player, books stacked in an uneven pile on the nightstand. It was warm. Soft. Lived in.
Nat was taking it all in, the details, when something small but unmistakable caught her eye.
A pin.
Tucked onto the edge of Lottie’s corkboard, half-hidden under a polaroid of her and Tai. shades of pink and orange—a fucking lesbian flag.
Nat froze.
Her stomach twisted, heart lurching into her throat.
She’d suspected, assumed, maybe even hoped—but seeing it? Confirmed? Right in front of her?
Her brain short-circuited.
Oh.
Lottie liked girls.
Oh.
Lottie—who had touched her thigh, held her hand, asked to hang out just us—liked girls.
Lottie—who was watching her now, oblivious to the way Nat’s world had just tilted off its axis—liked girls.
Her chest went tight, legs unsteady. She had to sit down.
“You gonna stand there all day?” Lottie teased, tilting her head, her voice pulling Nat back.
Nat forced herself to move, flopping onto the bed like she wasn’t losing her mind, her voice rough as she deflected. “Nice place. Very… Lottie.”
Lottie smirked, stepping closer, her bare feet silent on the hardwood. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nat shrugged, suddenly needing to look anywhere but the corkboard. “Dunno. Just… nice.”
Lottie’s gaze flicked over her, slow, considering. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She lingered there a beat too long, her eyes catching Nat’s for a moment that felt heavy, before turning to the record player, flipping through vinyls. “You pick.”
Nat latched onto the distraction like a lifeline, shoving her mini-crisis down. She slid off the bed, shoulder brushing Lottie’s arm and thumbed through the stack, letting the motion ground her. When she landed on The Cure, she pulled it out, flashing the cover at Lottie.
Lottie hummed, her lips curling into a soft smile. “Alright. Solid choice.” She took the record from Nat’s hands, her fingers gazing Nat’s, making her pulse stutter. She set the record, and Pictures of You crackled to life, dreamy and slow.
Nat let out a breath, the music easing her nerves. Better.
Lottie flopped onto the bed, head propped up on her hand, watching Nat with those steady, dark eyes like she was trying to figure her out. Nat stayed standing for a moment, eyes locked on where Lottie’s dress rode up, forcing her eyes away. She sank back onto the mattress, closer than before. Their knees brushed, neither moving away.
“So. What made you finally text me?” Lottie asked, her voice light but her gaze piercing.
Nat tensed. Her fingers flexing on the comforter. “You make it sound like i was ignoring you.” she deflected, dropping onto her back, staring at the ceiling.
Lottie just looked at her. Amused. Unbothered. “Sure you weren’t.”
Nat huffed, closing her eyes for a second. “It’s not like that.”
Lottie’s voice was softer now, dipping into something gentle, almost careful. “Then what’s it like?” She reached over, fingers finding the hem of Nat’s shirt, tugging lightly, playful but deliberate.
Nat opened her mouth, then closed it. Her hands were twitchy again. She wished she had a smoke, something to hold, something to do with them.
Lottie let her squirm for a second before shifting closer. Not much, just enough that their legs pressed together, warm through the fabric, her hand resting lightly on Nat’s knee now. Nat swallowed, her eyes flickering to where Lottie’s fingers splayed against her skin.
“You overthink things, don’t you?” Lottie asked, voice quiet, her thumb brushing slow against Nat’s knee, a soft rhythm that made her stomach flip.
Nat let out a breathy laugh, eyes still on the ceiling. “What gave it away?”
Lottie smiled, her hand sliding an inch higher, just enough to make Nat’s pulse jump. “I dunno. You’re kinda obvious.”
Nat scoffed. “Bullshit.”
Lottie shook her head, her gaze unwavering, catching Nat’s eyes when she finally dared to look. “You say one thing, but your face says another. It’s cute.”
Nat’s stomach flipped.
She covered it with a smirk, cocky, automatic. “You think I’m cute?”
Lottie laughed, rolling onto her back, her shoulder brushing Nat’s as she settled beside her, looking at the ceiling too. “Yeah, Nat. That’s what you took from that.” Her hand stayed put, resting lightly on Nat’s thigh, a quiet anchor.
Nat exhaled. The tension in her chest pulled tighter.
Then Lottie asked, “Do I make you nervous?”
Nat stiffened.
She forced out a scoff, turning her head slightly. “You wish.”
Lottie turned too, and suddenly they were close—closer than before, inches apart. Nat’s eyes trailed over her, to an extent. Her high cheekbones, her bangs brushing her forehead, the depth in her eyes. She didn’t dare look any lower. Lottie’s breath was warm against her cheek. “Kinda feels like it,” Lottie murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nat swallowed. Her mouth was dry. Her hand hesitant, reaching for Lottie’s, fingers brushing before taking it fully, threading their fingers together. Lottie’s hand warm, steady, and Nat’s pulse thumped hard against her ribs.
Lottie didn’t push. Didn’t tease. Just let the moment stretch, her thumb brushing Nat’s knuckles in a slow, soothing rhythm, her eyes soft but unrelenting.
Nat was the first to break, exhaling sharply. “You’re annoying.” She squeezed Lottie’s hand despite herself.
Lottie chuckled. “You’re deflecting.” She shifted closer, her shoulder pressing fully against Nat’s now, her hair brushing Nat’s neck.
Nat groaned, covering her face with her free hand. “Can’t we just lie here in peace?”
Lottie huffed, amused. “Fine. Truce.”
They laid there, Lovesong filling the space between them.
A minute passed. Two.
Then Lottie sighed. Her voice soft “I like this.” Her fingers tightened around Nat’s for a moment, then relaxed.
Nat tilted her head slightly, cautious. “What?”
Lottie’s free hand drifted up, playing with the tips of Nat’s hair absentmindedly, twirling a strand around her finger before letting it fall. “This. Just hanging out.” Her eyes flicked to Nat’s, holding them a beat too long, something unguarded flickering in them.
Something warm spread in Nat’s chest. Dangerous.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah.” A pause. “Me too.”
They stayed like that for a moment, stealing glances at each other, pretending not to notice the other looking. The Cure humming through the room. Lottie toyed with Nat’s fingers, tracing soft circles in her palm before interlocking their fingers again. Nat’s eyes dropped to their hands, her her heart beating in her fingertips, a steady thrum she couldn’t ignore.
Lottie softly tugged on a lock of Nat’s hair, drawing her attention. Their eyes locked, Nat felt the air shift. “You’re not gonna ghost me after this, are you?”
Nat paused, what do i even say to that? She shook her head, words stuck somewhere deep.
“I get it you know.” Lottie spoke softly, her thumb brushing over Nat’s knuckles again.
Nat furrowed her brows slightly, “get what?”
Lottie shrugged, still holding eye contact. “That it freaks you out.”
Nat swallowed, “what freaks me out?”
Lottie squeezed her hand, fingers still interlaced, “this.” He voice was steady, but her eyes searched Nat’s, waiting.
All Nat could feel is her heart pounding, she couldn’t take her eyes away from Lottie’s. She couldn’t pull her hand away. This is real. Oh shit.
Lottie inched closer, her knee pressing against Nat’s thigh now. “I like being around you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her free hand brushing Nat’s arm, lingering there.
That made something in Nat’s chest twist. Her hands burned, every alarm rang in her head.
She doesn’t date.
It took a lot to bring that thought forward. And once it started rolling, she couldn’t stop it. She doesn’t date because she hurts the people she loves. She always has. Her dad wouldn’t be dead if it wasn’t for her. Her mom wouldn’t be drowning in a bottle if it wasn’t for her. Alex wouldn’t need to work endlessly to provide for the family if it wasn’t for her. Rory could’ve had a semi-normal childhood if it wasn’t for her. She reminded herself that it’s all her fault and that she’s a fuck up.
But something nagged her, Lottie’s eyes boring into hers, soft and unflinching. They’re comforting and they make her nervous and for one second, she allowed herself to think, maybe this could be different.. maybe no one gets hurt this time.
Lottie spoke up again before Nat could. “I’m scared too, you know.”
Nat found her voice, her head was hurting, her heart about to collapse. “You are?”
Lottie nodded, her hand slipping From Nat’s to rest lightly on her wrist, fingers curling there. “Yeah.”
Nat blinked, throat dry. “Of what?” Her voice cracked, thin. Her hand burned where Lottie touched her, heart beating hard.
Lottie’s eyes flicked down, then up, steady. “Not this.” She squeezed Nat’s wrist, quick, let it go, rolled onto her back. “Being stuck. You know, rich girl. Straight A’s. Looking right. Talking to who they want.” Her voice was calm, but it cut, sharp under the soft. “It’s always about how people see me.”
Nat’s chest loosened, just a bit. She flexed her fingers, empty now, still tingling. “What’s that got to do with me?” Words came out rough, confused. She turned her head, caught Lottie’s profile against the ceiling.
Lottie laughed, short, real. “Everything.” She propped up on her elbow, faced Nat. “You’re not that. This isn’t that. I get to breathe with you.” Her eyes locked on, no bullshit, no tease. She reached out, brushing a stand of Nat’s hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her jaw for a moment too long.
Nat swallowed, stomach twisting. “Breathe?” She snorted, weak, trying to dodge how heavy it felt. Her leg bounced, fast, nervous again.
Lottie didn’t blink. “Yeah. Be me. Not the version they want.” She sat up, crossed her legs, looking over at the lesbian pin. “I’m scared of waking up one day and realizing I never got out of that box. Just kept playing their game.”
Nat’s breath hitched. She sat up slow, elbows on her knees, stared at the floor. “Fuck, Lot.” Her voice was soft, not pissed. She looked at her, held it. “You mean that?”
Lottie leaned forward, hands clasped, knee brushing Nat’s thigh again. “Yeah.” Her eyes didn’t waver. “You’re not them. You don’t care about their rules.” She sat back, elbows behind her, steady. “Makes me not care either.”
Nat’s chest went tight, warm. “I don’t care about much.” She flopped back, stared at the ceiling, voice low. “Guess I’m emotionally stunted.”
“You are.” Lottie giggled, teasing and shifted to lie beside her again, their shoulders brushing. Her hand found Nat’s arm, resting there lightly, fingertips tracing absent patterns. “But you don’t hide who you are. And I like that about you.”
The warmth in Nat’s chest burned now, almost uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to do with it. “I think about it too,” she admitted. “How people see me.”
Lottie blinked, turning her head to look at Nat, their faces close again. “Yeah?”
Nat exhaled sharply, “I mean, Yeah. I don’t know. It’s not like I don’t notice when people look at me, or talk about me. And I don’t really care, but…” She hesitated. Her hand twitching toward Lottie’s, brushing her fingers again. “Sometimes it’s weird knowing people have already decided who you are before you even say anything.”
Lottie laid back fully beside her, their shoulders pressing together now, her hand sliding down to link Nat’s slow and deliberate. “Yeah.” She grinned a little, soft. “You get it.”
Nat turned her head, looked at her. “Guess so.” Her fingers tightened around Lottie’s, she let her thumb brush over Lottie’s knuckles, mirror what Lottie had done before. “You’re not so bad, Matthews.”
Lottie’s smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She shifted slightly, her knee nudging Nat’s, and for a moment, they just lay there, hands clasped, breathing in sync, the air between them thick with something unspoken but undeniable.
The record came to an end, a soft crackle lingered as it waited to be turned. Lottie sat up and slid off the bed. Nat’s eyes following, she sat up, dangling her feet off the edge of the bed. She watched as Lottie bent forward, flipping the record, the hem of her dress lifting slightly, revealing more of her thigh. Nat’s eyes caught, couldn’t pull away.
“What about you?” Lottie asked, placing the needle back on the record, she turned around with a soft smile, unaware of Nat’s wandering eyes. “What’s the thing you’re most scared of?”
Nat’s breath caught. She smacked herself mentally for looking at Lottie like that, but Lottie’s eyes pinned her there. “I don’t know.” She mumbled, her gaze dropping to her hands in her lap. “Fucking up, I guess. Like always.”
Lottie tilted her head, her hair spilling over her shoulder and stepped closer. “You haven’t fucked up with me,” she said, calm and sure, her hand lifted to Nat’s shoulder. Then teasing, “not yet.”
Nat huffed a small laugh, turning her head up to meet Lottie’s eyes. “Give it time,” she muttered, half-joking, but her chest tightened. “Remember Layla? Freshman year? Yeah, that didn’t last long.” She shrugged, casual, but her hand twitched in her lap. “When dad died, I just… bailed. On her. On everything.”
Lottie’s gaze softened, her hand sliding down Nat’s arm to rest beside her fingers in her lap, close. “I remember,” she said, her voice low, not pitying but knowing. “You disappeared after that.” She stepped closer, she reached out to adjust Nat’s skewed collar, her fingertips grazing Nat’s neck as she smoothed the fabric.
Nat swallowed, her pulse jumping at the brief contact. She didn’t know why she’d said it. Maybe to warn Lottie, maybe to test her. But she couldn’t take it back now. “Yeah, well..” She mumbled, glancing at Lottie’s eyes, then away. Lottie was standing over her, and Nat’s stomach twisted. “Your turn. You ever mess up like that?” Her voice betrayed her, curiosity and something else, sharper, slipping through.
Lottie paused, her hand hovering near Nat’s shoulder before settling back on the bed, her knee knocking against Nat’s. Her brows furrowed for a moment, hands fidgeted in her lap and shifted to face nat fully, her leg against Nat’s hip, dress bunching up in her lap. “Not the same way,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Two summers ago, there was this girl, Laura Lee.”
Nat’s brows lifted, her heart stuttering. “Laura Lee?” She kept her tone light, but her hand shot toward Lottie’s, stopping halfway.
Lottie nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line before softening. “Yeah. Church camp, mom had a religious kick that year, threw me in camp while her and dad went to Italy.” She reached up, absently twirling a strand of Nat’s hair around her finger as she spoke. “She was nice, sweet, but… suffocating. All this guilt about God, sin, the works. We kissed like twice, late at night, but that’s about it.”
Nat tilted her head, her hands clutching her shirt, absentmindedly. She watched Lottie’s face, the way her eyes darkened. “And then?”
Lottie’s gaze dropped to Nat’s hands, her own reaching out, tugging one free and interlacing their fingers. Her voice steady but edged. “She shut it down. Said it wasn’t real, that we had to pretend it never happened. Told me to bury it, like she was trying to.” She looked up, meeting Nat’s eyes, firm. “She was so full of shame. I wasn’t, I knew what I felt.”
Nat’s chest tightened, a mix of surprise and something warmer. “Shit,” she murmured, her free hand reaching for the hem of Lottie’s dress, her fingers brushing Lottie’s thigh. “That’s… a lot.”
Lottie shrugged, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “She wasn’t like you, though.” She leaned forward slightly, her hand brushing Nat’s cheek as she tucked another stray hair behind her ear, her touch lingering a beat longer this time. “You’re not heavy like that.”
Nat’s breath hitched, her eyes locked on Lottie’s, way too close now. Her skin tingled where Lottie’s fingers had been, she let go, hands retreating to her lap like she’d been burnt. “I don’t, fuck—I don’t date, Lot.” She blurted, throwing herself back on the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. It was half a shield, half a plea.
It was her rule, her line.
But it sounded flimsy now, weak.
And she hated how she wanted Lottie to see through it.
Lottie’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t back down. She’d heard it, Nat’s reputation, the hookups, the way she’d fool around but never stick, her stubborn line in the sand against dating, pushing people away like it was a rule. It floated around school, even Tai had told her to not get attached if she was gonna try anything. But Lottie didn’t care, didn’t listen, like none of it mattered. “I know.” She laid down next to Nat, elbow propped on the bed, looking down at Nat. A faint smile playing on her lips. Her hand settled on Nat’s stomach, slightly tugging at her shirt. “You don’t sound so sure about it, though.”
Nat blinked, thrown. “What?” Lottie had her pinned, despite barely touching. Her hand and her eyes locked Nat in place.
Lottie tilted her head, her hair grazing Nat’s jaw as she leaned in, voice soft. “You don’t have to date me to hang out with me,” she said. Nat’s eyes shot to the ceiling, her breath shallow. Lottie’s hand climbed higher, fingertips gentle on Nat’s chin, guiding her gaze back on her. “But I like this. You. Right now.”
Nat’s heart slammed against her ribs, unfamiliar and loud. She wasn’t used to this, fingers trailing, shoulders brushing, lying too close. Before today, Lottie was just Lottie—Beautiful, friendly, untouchable, straight, never an option for anything. Not a hookup, not a crush. But now, this, made Nat’s world crumble. Lottie was real, and Nat didn’t know what to do with it. She reached out, hesitant, her fingers curling around Lottie’s wrist, removing her fingertips from her chin. She pressed Lottie’s hand to her chest, heartbeat wild. “You’re gonna kill me.” She whispered, but her lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile.
Lottie chuckled, low and soft, feeling her affect under her fingertips. “Good,” she teased, her voice gentle. “Means I’m doing something right.”
The Cure hummed on, wrapping them in a haze, and Nat let herself sink into it, caught between her old rules and the way Lottie’s eyes made her want to break them.