Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The blank canvas stared back at Janis like a personal challenge.

She twirled the paintbrush between her fingers, the very one that never made it to the canvas. She shouldn’t be struggling with inspiration, in fact she had multiple ideas of what she could be painting, they just didn’t quite shine like she wanted to.

Junior year alone could fill a whole damn gallery. For starters, there was the fall of the Plastics, perfectly dramatic, theatrical, a golden reign torn to pieces. Or maybe Spring Fling, that bizarre fever dream where, somehow, everyone forgot about social hierarchies for a night.

That moment Cady broke the tiara into pieces, perhaps if she framed it with the right lighting… No, that wasn’t it.

Janis sighed as she tapped the brush on the palette. Maybe it was precisely the memories of that night that were messing with her head. Of course, it was… oddly fun. After Cady had her whole redemption arc speech, for once everyone at North Shore forgot about that stupid popularity prison and just had a good time.

But then there was Regina… high as balls. Completely out of it. But also vulnerable. Not a threat for probably the first time in her entire existence.

Janis didn’t know how she ended up babysitting her.

One second, she was having fun with her friends — watching Damian get way too excited with some random pop song that was totally overrated —, the next, she was watching Regina George struggle to take a sip from her cup, like it required advanced motor skills.

And maybe, just maybe, Janis pitied her for a split second. Unfortunately it was enough for her to roll her eyes, snatch the cup, and help it towards Regina’s lips before she could manage to spill it all over herself.

That was her first mistake. The second was not immediately getting up and leaving, because the next thing she knew, Regina’s arms were wrapping around her hips, pulling Janis towards her lap.

She would hate to admit it gave her a familiar, warm, anxious feeling in her chest. How it reminded her of how close they were in their childhood, or worse — how she missed it like a little kid.

And then the weirdest thing happened.

As Regina leaned on Janis’s arm, she whispered an apology under her breath, eyes blinking slowly with the effect of the painkillers in her system. It’s not like it counted anyways, Regina had also complimented Shane Oman’s “revolutionary” dance moves that looked like he was fighting off an invisible swarm of bees. She clearly wasn’t herself.

Though Janis always recognized Regina’s lies and manipulations and… that wasn’t it. Which was the weirdest part.

Nonetheless, it didn’t really matter, because after Spring Fling Regina disappeared. Well, she was hit by a bus — Karma apparently had a dark sense of humor —, so it made sense she wasn’t ready to go back to classes like nothing happened.

The last few months of junior year, she was barely there. When she did show up, she still wasn’t the same Regina George everyone knew. Some days, she was out of it, once again giggling at nothing, slowly blinking and talking nonsense, too high to even register what was happening around her. Other days, she was meaner than ever, snapping at anyone who so much as breathed in her direction.

But mostly, she was absent, either locked up in some doctor’s office or skipping class altogether. It didn’t matter when her family was rich enough to blackmail the school into passing Regina anyway.

That’s when things started to change. Spring Fling served as a reset for North Shore and without the queen bee, it wasn’t the same. The plastics were out of place, Gretchen and Karen looked lost sitting at that massive table by themselves, and then Cady — stubborn peacekeeper Cady — was on her whole “Let’s all be friends!” campaign. Of course she would start dragging Janis and Damian to sit with them.

At first, Janis resisted. Well, obviously. The whole thing felt wrong, like stepping onto enemy territory without a weapon. Her history with Regina and her minions wasn’t just stupid high school drama like Cady’s — it was personal. Cady still didn’t get that. But then she went on and on with “Just for today!”.

Janis had to be the worst sinner in her past lives, because eventually “just for today” turned into every day, until the Art Freaks and the former Plastics were blended into some Frankenstein’s monster of a friend group.

But Gretchen and Karen weren’t the same without their fearless leader, and without Regina's shadow constantly over them, it was… tolerable.

Damian fitted in annoyingly well. His love for fashion gave him an easy way in with them. And after a while, Janis started realizing Gretchen was fine as long as she wasn’t trying to pry into her life’s secrets instead of someone else’s. Karen on the other hand felt almost like a pet or a mascot — cute, but with no thoughts inside that head.

When Regina actually did show up to school, it was less bearable, but not as worse as it could be. It wasn’t frequent, and most of the time, she was too out of it to do much. The meds dulled her edges, kept her from being the force of nature she used to be. But she was still there, and that was enough to make Janis’s skin crawl.

But then summer break hit and she was gone. No mention of her, except for some passing updates from Gretchen or Karen. The queen of North Shore had vanished, and no one really seemed to care. Maybe the universe had finally taken care of the problem for her.

That would be if senior year started just as easy, but of course Janis wouldn’t be that lucky.

The first day back, Regina walked through the doors like she hadn’t spent the last few months broken and drugged out of her mind. No neck brace, no painkillers. Just sharp eyes, perfect posture, and a presence that sent a ripple through the school like a shark slipping back into the water.

And she was still sitting with them.

Nope. Hell no. Janis was not about to stress over Regina in her free time — again. She had better shit to do.

Yet all she did was exhale sharply, tapping her brush against the edge of her palette like that would somehow make an idea materialize.

It didn’t. The blank canvas stayed blank like it was mocking her, and the longer she stared at it, the more irritating it became.

Fuck this.

She dropped the brush into the murky water cup, stretching her arms over her head. Maybe she should just get some sleep for a change.

The next morning, Janis dragged her feet through the halls, doing her best to tune out the chatter of first week excitement. She wasn’t that thrilled about senior year, but it couldn’t be that bad either.

At least she had one thing to look forward to — art class. Her one safe place in this shithole of a school.

“God, I forgot how much I hate this place,” Damian muttered beside her, adjusting the strap of his bag.

Janis hummed in agreement. “Just remember, one more year and then we’re out of this hell. No more lunchroom dramas, no more P.E. class nightmares…”

“No more homophobic gym teachers…” Damian added.

“And no more math!” Janis cheered like that was the best thing to look forward. She could never understand Cady.

“So let it be written, so let it be done, sis.”

As they reached the art room, she exhaled, shoulders relaxing a little. At least this room still felt the same — smelled like paint and wood shavings, shelves stacked with sketchbooks, canvases leaning against the walls. Her space.

But as she stepped inside, she stopped at the sight of perfect blonde hair at a desk near the window.

“…Regina,” she said slowly, taking in the unusual out-of-place sight. “You’re here. I was wondering why all the birds had suddenly stopped singing.”

Damian chuckles beside her, but he seemed just as confused with Regina’s presence in the art room as her. She didn’t like art and she most definitely wasn’t good at it.

Regina turned her head, already rolling her eyes before Janis even finished talking. “Janis… Charming as always. I didn’t miss your terrible sense of humor,” she said unimpressed as she went back to ignoring her.

“No, really,” Janis said, stepping further inside, eyebrows raised. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you get lost on your way to the ‘Ruthless Dictators of the 21st Century’ class?” She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you didn’t like art.”

“I don’t.”

Janis rolled her eyes at the vague response. “Then…?”

Regina sighed, as if she was the one who had to explain something obvious. “I’m going into fashion. Colleges want a portfolio. I unfortunately need this.”

Janis arched an eyebrow, skeptical. “And you’re starting now? Senior year?”

Regina gave a slow, ironic smile. “Not everyone spends all their free time painting tragic self-portraits in their garage, Janis. Besides, I work well under pressure.”

Janis scoffed, dropping her bag onto the nearest desk. “Sure. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

She wasn’t buying it. Not because Regina wasn’t serious about fashion — Janis knew she was — but because she knew Regina. And Regina George didn’t sit through things she didn’t master. If she wasn’t good at something immediately, she cheated her way through it, or twisted things in her favor.

Janis shook her head and pulled out her art supplies. She didn’t have the energy to think about Regina’s life choices. If she wanted to embarrass herself trying to draw, that was her problem.

But if Janis was being honest, she had expected Regina to turn the art room into a battlefield, as if her presence alone was a threat. But as the class went on, she found herself more entertained than anything.

Regina sucked.

Like, genuinely, spectacularly sucked.

Which was almost funny, because she clearly understood some things. Regina knew color theory, had a decent sense of composition and aesthetic — probably from years of picking out perfect outfits and eyeshadow palettes —, but when it came to actually drawing, she had the skill level of a concussed toddler.

Janis glanced at her paper and bit back a laugh. Regina had drawn what might have once been an apple but now looked like a crime scene. She had seen kindergarteners with more control over a pencil, and had a better concept of shading when she was eight.

Regina’s jaw tightened every time she smudged it the wrong way and she pressed the pencil harder every time like she could physically force the lines to cooperate. It was kind of hilarious.

But then she would also press her lips together, flicking her hair out of her face and rolling her neck with a quiet sigh before leaning forward again, more determined than ever. And okay, maybe it was a little unfair that even frustration looked hot on her.

Not that it mattered.

“Daddy’s money can’t buy talent…” Janis muttered under her breath while looking at her own paper nonchalantly, just loud enough for Regina to hear.

Regina’s pencil paused. Then — without missing a beat — she smiled. Not a nice smile. A Regina George smile. Which was somehow worse than if she’d fought back.

“Let her be, Janis,” Damian cut in. Not that he had any sympathy for Regina — he just didn't want to get caught in the middle of another one of their catfights. “She already looks miserable anyway.”

But Janis couldn’t help herself. “You know, I’m sure someday you’ll go far…” She said in the blonde’s direction, making a dramatic pause for effect as she grinned. “And I really hope you stay there.”

Regina huffed a soft, almost amused sound. “Cute,” she said flatly. “Now why don’t you pay attention to your actual beloved art, instead of me?”

Janis held her stare a moment longer, pulse ticking up for no reason she wanted to acknowledge. Then she shrugged, flipping to a fresh page in her sketchbook.

“Gladly.” She wasn’t about to let Regina’s presence ruin her favorite class anyway. If anything, she would make the most out of this entertainment.

But it wasn’t just in art class.

It was everywhere.

She wasn’t sure when it had become a daily thing — when Janis and Regina had started making everyone else’s life miserable with their constant arguing.

She wasn’t going to lie. At first, it was fun. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing Regina’s short patience snap, about knowing exactly which buttons to press to make her crack. But at some point, it stopped being a game. It stopped being funny.

It turned into a habit.

Janis realized that as she sat down for lunch and cursed herself for making eye contact with Regina, already prepared for whatever bullshit she had to say today.

“God, Janis, your eyeliner is so thick I could see my reflection in it. Do you even have eyes under that?”

“Aw, are you mad I have an actual personality and not just a collection of my parents' credit card?”

Cady sighed as she intervened. “Regina… be nice. You too, Jan.”

The blonde scoffed. “Sure, do I get bonus friendship points if I act like I care?”

“You know, sometimes I can't help but imagine how much awesomer the world would be if your dad had just pulled out in time.” Janis cut in, Regina's expression turning into pure disgust.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Oh, my bad, I forgot the ‘Queen Bitch’ demands silence while she eats.”

Damian looked like he was about to stab the fork in his eyes as he murmured, “I feel like I’m watching my parents fight, except somehow more toxic.”

By the end of the second week, it was obvious Cady's peacekeeping campaign wasn't working.

Monday had started with side comments. By Tuesday, the insults became direct. By Wednesday, Gretchen and Karen had learned to just keep talking over them, like parents ignoring their kids fighting in the backseat. By Thursday, Cady was dramatically putting a hand between them like that would stop Janis from saying something sassy or Regina from smirking in that way that made Janis’s blood pressure spike.

Janis wasn’t trying to make Cady’s life miserable. Really, she wasn’t.

But if she had to sit there and let Regina George make passive-aggressive comments every day without biting back, she might actually explode. So, really, she was doing everyone a favor. If she stayed quiet, she would combust, and that would be way messier than a few insults.

The whole thing was exhausting, and Janis had better things to waste her energy on.

Not that she was actually putting any energy into this stupid English assignment she had to do with Damian.

The sunlight shone through her garage door’s windows, illuminating dust in the air as Damian flipped through their assignment paper. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch, his notebook open on his lap, while Janis sat at her desk, the pencil between her fingers never stopping its movements on the paper.

“Okay, so if we bullshit our way through at least three paragraphs on symbolism, we should be good,” Damian said, glancing up at her. “I mean, who actually reads these essays?”

Janis didn’t respond, instead she scribbled on the corner of her notebook, filling the space with harsh overlapping lines that barely counted as a sketch.

“Hello? Earth to Janis?” Damian snapped his fingers. “Are you even listening?”

Janis blinked and looked up. “Huh?”

“I asked if you want to divide this up or just let me do all the work while you murder your notebook with the pencil,” he answered ironic, gesturing at her page.

Janis glanced down at her scribbles and exhaled as she dropped the pencil down, now fidgeting with her rings. “Sorry,” she said simply, but Damian arched a questioning eyebrow. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s a damn lie.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Let's just focus back on the assignment.”

He set his notebook aside and rested his chin on his fist. “What’s up?”

Janis sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for a second before — already knowing he wouldn’t drop it — muttering, “My parents asked me about college again today.”

Damian sat up straighter. “Oh no...”

“Yeah. The usual conversation,” she said bitterly. “They asked what I was planning and when I said art, we had a fun little debate about how that’s apparently a hobby and not a career. Because, you know, making money off art is just unheard of.”

Damian groaned. “Please tell me they’re not still on this.”

“Oh, they’re very on this.” Janis let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through her hair. “And then they hit me with the big one. ‘They didn’t save money for this’. So apparently, they're not giving up a nickel to help me pay for it.”

Damian frowned, caught off guard by the new information. “Wait, what?”

“They said if I wanted to go to college, I should pick a ‘real major’.” She made air quotes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if I insist on wasting my life, then I can figure out how to pay for it myself.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Janis shrugged like she wasn’t affected, but she was still playing with her ring, spinning it around her finger like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

For a moment, Damian didn’t say anything. Then, he shifted closer. “Okay, so… this means you need a scholarship.”

“No shit.” She sounded harsher than intended.

“Well, good news,” he said, ignoring her reasonable bad mood and gesturing at the walls covered in her paintings and the sketchbooks stacked on the table. “You’re insanely good at what you do, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Janis scoffed. “Yeah, let’s just hope art schools think so too.”

“They will.” Damian leaned in. “Janis, you’re fucking amazing. You’re better than half the people I see getting into top programs. Your art actually means something. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Janis held his gaze for a second before looking away.

She wanted to believe him. She really did. But the doubt was heavy on her shoulders, the same doubt that always whispered that no matter how good she was, it wasn’t good enough.

She exhaled, rubbing her face. “It just feels like… if I screw this up, that’s it. No backup plan.”

Damian softened his voice. “Then you won’t screw it up.”

Janis let out a breath, shaking her head. “You’re annoyingly optimistic, you know that?”

“It’s my best quality. Besides of course, my natural beauty,” Damian said with a grin. Then he grabbed his notebook again, opening it dramatically. “Now, if we’re done going on existential spirals, let’s finish this boring assignment so you can go back to being a melancholic artist in peace.”

Janis gave him a small smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And just like that, the rest of the week blurred into a cycle of assignments, lunchtime arguments, and whatever fresh hell Regina George decided to bring into her life that day.

Which was why Janis almost missed it when the art teacher called her name at the end of the class, dragging her attention away from cleaning her brushes.

“George, ‘Imi’ike. Stick around for a minute,” Mr. Park called out, leaning back slightly in his chair as the rest of the students packed up.

Janis groaned quietly. Regina, already halfway to the door, turned with a loud sigh as if this was an inconvenience specifically designed to ruin her day.

As the last few students stepped out, the middle-aged asian teacher rested his elbows on his desk as he looked between them. "I’m sure you both have an idea why I asked you to stay."

“Nope,” Janis said immediately.

“Not a clue,” Regina added, arms crossed.

“Right,” he sighed. “Let’s start with this. Regina, you’ve been staying after class to ask for extra help…”

Janis blinked, then snorted before she could stop herself.

Regina? Asking for help? The same Regina who thought she was naturally good at everything?

Regina shot her a glare. “Oh, shut up.”

“And you’re still this bad?” Janis added, still grinning.

“Bite me.”

“Girls,” Mr. Park said warning before they could escalate. “Regina, I appreciate the effort, but we both know it’s not enough. You’re struggling to keep up, and you need a strong portfolio if you’re serious about fashion design.”

Regina looked away huffing, legs crossing as Janis watched amused.

“And Janis,” The teacher continued, turning to her. “You’ve been coming to me for help with portfolio development, college applications, scholarship opportunities… Which brings me to my proposal.”

Janis didn’t like the sound of that.

“I want you to tutor Regina,” he said simply. “One-on-one, twice a week after school.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hard pass.”

“She's not touching my work.”

“Not unless I want to set it on fire.”

“Huh, guess the Pyro-Lez title really suits you well.”

Mr. Park pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment like he was reconsidering his entire career. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Both the girls rolled their eyes at each other as he sighed.

“I’m sorry, but isn’t teaching essentially your job?” Janis asked.

“See, I'm one man with twenty-five students per class, and I’m not nearly paid enough to give anyone the personal tutoring experience that you—” he pointed at Janis “could provide.”

He sounded proud of Janis, but in this context she would rather not be his best student.

“Besides, I’m also suggesting this because the two of you have made a habit of disturbing my class with your constant arguing. I need you to learn how to work together, or at least in the same space for once. I think you'd both benefit from it.”

Regina scoffed. “And what do I get out of this, exactly?”

“A portfolio that doesn’t look like a third grader made it” Janis meddled in.

“I meant from him, idiot.”

“If you commit to this,” Mr. Park started, ignoring the unnecessary comments, “I’ll write each of you a strong letter of recommendation. And if you both participate in the art fair at the end of the semester, that letter gets even more flattering.”

That got Janis’s attention. Mr. Park’s recommendation could make a difference for her. And it wasn’t like she could afford to be picky — she needed every advantage she could get.

Regina, on the other hand, looked unimpressed. “And if I say no?”

The teacher shrugged. “Then you’ll have to figure it out on your own.” He gave her a pointed look. “And I don’t think you have time for that.”

Regina’s jaw clenched.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Mr. Park said, already turning to his laptop. “Let me know by the end of the day.”

And just like that they were dismissed.

“This is a joke. This has to be a joke,” Janis murmured as she shoved a book into her locker with more force than necessary.

It didn’t matter. Regina would never go for it.

Regina George wasn’t the type to admit she needed help — especially not from Janis. So, really, there was nothing to stress about.

Except Mr. Park was giving her a damn good offer on a silver platter. A glowing golden letter of recommendation. Something that could actually help her get into the art schools she was eyeing. And Janis needed all the credibility she could get. She could make a strong portfolio, but she still didn’t have enough of the academic prestige that most art schools loved. Tutoring could help build that credibility.

She slammed her locker shut, Damian and Cady catching up to her as they made their way towards the cafeteria. She had already texted their friend group about the newest problem — another damn Regina related problem for Janis’s luck.

It’s like she was haunting her goddamn life.

“It's really just tutoring, Jan,” Cady tried. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, Caddy,” Janis said, annoyed just at the thought. “It’s Regina George breathing down my neck and acting like she’s better than me while needing my help.”

Damian hummed, considering. “Okay, but hear me out. Maybe if you spend all your rage in the art room, I won’t have to sit between you two at lunch like I’m negotiating a ceasefire.” He paused, then added, “Or maybe she’ll kill you, and we can finally have some peace.”

“Please,” Janis scoffed. “You can’t live without me.”

“Sometimes, Janis? I really wish I could.”

Cady chuckled. “Damian’s right. I swear you guys argue like an old married couple. Well, one that probably should've gotten a divorce, but still…”

“We do not.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…”

Janis rolled her eyes as they reached the cafeteria doors, grabbing their trays and joining the lunch line.

“She’s insufferable,” Janis muttered, mostly to herself. “She’ll probably try to boss me around like I’m some employee of Regina George, Inc.”

Damian turned to her with a look of disbelief. “You’re seriously saying no? When this could help you get into your dream art school?”

Cady nodded. “It’s mostly just art. It’s your favorite thing ever, Jan. You don’t even have to like her to do it.”

That annoyed her. Mostly because they were making good points. But the thought of actually helping Regina? That made her want to throw her backpack across the room.

They shut down the subject as soon as they sat at the table with the Plastics.

Thankfully, Regina also seemed too frustrated to argue, a single apple on her lunch tray. Janis still knew what that one fruit by itself meant, but — after briefly catching her own gaze annoyingly softening at Regina — she told herself it wasn’t her problem.

And as they walked back to class after lunch, Janis and Damian trailed behind.

“So,” Damian started. “Are you actually gonna do it? Tutoring Regina?”

Janis exhaled sharply. “Damian, we’re talking about Regina. You know what she did to me. And you, of all people, are a witness to the fact that she hasn’t changed. She is still the same fake ass botoxed Barbie who won’t get off my dick at lunch.”

“To be fair,” Damian said, tone maddeningly neutral, “you’ve been just as insufferable.”

Janis shot him a glare. “Which side are you on?!”

“Yours!” He put his hands up in surrender. “But this isn’t about Regina, Jan. This is about college. You’ve gotta at least try to make this work. If it doesn’t, then fine. We go back to having lunch just the two of us as well.” His voice softened just slightly. “I can’t take being caught in your crossfire for the rest of senior year. But just try. For yourself. Not for me, or Cady, and definitely not for Regina.”

She didn’t respond, just huffed and shoved her hands into her pockets as they stepped into the crowded hallway. But even as they went to different classes, Damian’s words stayed with her.

Just try.

Like it was that simple.

If this were anyone else, it wouldn’t be a problem. If some random junior needed tutoring, she might even enjoy it. But instead she was stuck with the Regina-shaped headache she'd already had all week.

Middle school felt like a lifetime ago, but some things never faded.

She still remembered how Regina had looked at her when she came out. Like it mattered. Like she mattered. Janis had been stupid enough to think that meant something. That Regina understood. That she cared.

And then she had ripped it all away.

She had never trusted anyone the way she trusted Regina. And Regina had made her regret it.

The betrayal burned more than anything. The humiliation, the rumors, the aftermath — it was all bad. But the worst part? The part Janis really couldn’t stomach?

She still remembered what it felt like before.

Before the party. Before the rumors. Before Regina became someone else entirely. Back when it was them against the world. Back when they had secrets and inside jokes and… a place that was theirs.

She hated that she still remembered. She hated that it still hurt.

And she still missed it even when she hated it.

And now, after all these years, she was supposed to help Regina? That was the girl she was supposed to sit across twice a week, acting like she was just another student?

She wasn’t going to do it. She couldn’t do it.

And yet, Damian’s voice was still there at the back of her mind.

This isn’t about Regina. This is about college.

God, she hated when he was right.

And besides, the truth was that she couldn't give Regina the satisfaction of knowing she still gets to her. If she walked away from this opportunity, she would be letting Regina, of all people, be the reason she doesn’t take a step towards her future.

No. Screw that. Regina had taken enough from her. She’s not taking this too.

By the time the last bell rang, Janis had made up her mind. She walked through the halls heading to the art room, the familiar path a second nature by now.

When she got there, Mr. Park was at his desk, going through a pile of sketches looking like he was personally offended by them.

Janis leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “So… Spill it. You’re really pushing this tutoring thing, huh? Why?”

He didn’t even look up, responding casually and ironic, way too used to Janis presence. “Because I’m underpaid, overworked, and I have this old student who keeps thinking I’m like her friend or something and I’m really trying to get rid of her.”

She snorted, stepping inside and leaning back on one of the desks. “I just don’t get why you care so much.”

He looked at her as he put the poorly made sketches aside. “You and Regina have been practically taking turns ambushing me after class to ask for help. And unlike you, she needs a lot of it.”

Janis barked out a laugh. “It’s not my fault she’s ridiculously bad at this.”

“She’s starting now, she’s not that bad, she just…” he said, then winced. “Okay, no, she is that bad. But she’s trying.”

Janis rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I’m supposed to give her a gold star for effort.”

“No, I make it sound like you’re supposed to be the bigger person and help.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two to make you this allergic to each other, like you’re sworn enemies or something, but you’re both seniors. You should be able to figure this out like adults.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, because adults always handle their problems so well.”

“Fair point.” He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “But I really don’t care how you figure it out, kid, just do it. Besides, I need more students for the art fair this year. If Regina actually learns how to paint something usable and you’re not too busy throwing death glares at her, you could both contribute. Maybe we can even make it into something halfway decent.”

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Great,” he said, exhaling like it was some huge relief.

“But I’m not promising Regina will go with it,” she added quickly. “Her ego is massive and she never really admits when she needs help from—”

“She already said yes.” He smirked.

Janis froze. “What?”

“She came by between classes earlier,” he said casually. “She agreed to it like the words tasted bitterly — the same way you just did. Maybe you two are more alike than you would like to admit.”

For a moment, all Janis could do was stare.

Regina agreed? Even before she did? What the actual fuck was happening?

“Now, when you’re done spiralling with whatever it is you seem to be questioning…” he started with a knowing smirk. “I can start guiding you into the tutoring role properly.”

Janis rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Fine, maybe she was spiraling a little.

Maybe she had been spiraling since the second Regina’s name got into this equation.

But that was another problem for another moment. For now, she had a tutoring plan to figure out.

The afternoon before the first tutoring session, Janis sat cross-legged on the floor of her garage, surrounded by plastic boxes of old sketchbooks and loose sheets of paper. She flipped through her old sketches trying to find something useful.

She needed structure. Not because she actually cared about being a good tutor, but because the sooner Regina picked up the basics, the sooner Janis could be done with this nightmare.

Mr. Park had mentioned starting with fundamentals — lines, shapes, shading —, so she went through her old art studies, flipping past years of practice sketches, childish figure studies… Maybe that's the way she should go with Regina, crayons and all.

But instead of something actually helpful, she froze as she found something rather familiar.

A crumpled page from a forgotten sketchbook, the faded paper yellowed from years of being shoved in a storage box. A drawing she did way back.

On it, her younger self, drawn standing tall in silver armor, a ridiculous sword held in her tiny hands. Next to her, a princess in a pink gown, golden hair curling over her shoulders, a tiara on the top of her head.

Regina.

Behind them stood a castle surrounded by trees, crooked towers drawn in shaky pencil lines and ivy climbing the stone. The kind only two kids with too much imagination could’ve seen in a pile of old stones.

She still remembered drawing this. Regina glued to her shoulder, bossing her around excitedly. “Make the skirt fluffier, make the crown prettier, can you draw little jewels on it?”

She remembered the way Regina had gasped with a wide smile when she saw the final version, hugging Janis like it was the greatest thing she had ever seen.

Janis let out a heavy sigh, flipping the page over like that would erase it from her mind.

It was stupid. Just some dumb drawing. But the sight of it brought her back into memories she had spent years not thinking about — muddy shoes, whispered secrets and Regina’s hand wrapped around hers as they ran up hill, breathless with laughter.

Her stomach twisted. This is not where her head needed to be.

Tomorrow this stupid tutoring thing would start. And if Regina thought for one second that this was going to go her way, that Janis was going to make this easy for her…

Well, she couldn’t wait to disappoint her.

Chapter Text

Regina woke up with a dull pain running down her spine.

It wasn’t sharp, it just weighed on her upper back with an annoying persistence, lingering like something waiting to remind her who was really in control.

She exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling for a moment. The morning light filtered through the curtains in her room, silent except for the soft rustling of the sheets as she stretched on her bed, testing her stiff muscles.

At some point, the pain had stopped feeling like something separate from her and just became part of the background noise.

The first thing she remembered after the accident wasn’t the impact, or the moment she hit the pavement. It was waking up in the hospital, her whole body locked in place, and realizing she couldn’t move without feeling like her spine was being torn apart.

The pain was always there. Even when she was lying still, it sat heavy at the base of her spine, curling up into her neck like a weight she couldn’t shake off.

They gave her painkillers, and for a while, it helped. Sort of. It made things hazy. Slow. The only time she felt the pain sharp was when she forgot — when she shifted the wrong way, tried to sit up too fast or twisted too far to look over her shoulder. And suddenly, she was gasping, hot pain shooting up her spine like a blade cutting through her.

But yeah, the drugs helped. She floated through doctor’s visits and checkups, answering questions a second too late because her brain had to catch up to what people were saying.

None of it had felt real. Regina George didn’t lie in hospital beds, helpless while other people made decisions about her body. But it happened anyway.

That was the thing about pain — it didn’t go away just because people expected you to be okay or because you so badly wanted to.

For weeks, her world had shrunk down to nurses pressing cold stethoscopes to her chest and the quiet conversations doctors had over her bed, speaking like she wasn’t even there. She had gotten used to the pinch of needles in her arm and the antiseptic smell of every room.

She had hated all of it. Even more when people visited.

Her mom, of course, was always there, with constant reassuring questions on Regina’s wellbeing that she couldn’t keep up under the slow-motion effect on her brain that came with the painkillers. Gretchen, Karen, Shane, even Aaron — they visited at first. They brought flowers and cards and soft, pitying looks that made her want to storm out of there just to prove she could.

But she couldn’t.

Of course, that only lasted until they eventually moved on. Because life kept going, and for the first time, Regina felt like she wasn’t at the center of it.

And if the hospital had been hell, physical therapy was purgatory.

She was supposed to be grateful. That’s what everyone had told her. The doctors had said she was lucky. But if that was luck, she didn’t want to know what being unlucky felt like.

Either way, all Regina could think about was how slow the process was. How every inch of progress came at the cost of exhaustion so deep it made her want to sleep for days. How her body, which had once done whatever she wanted without hesitation, now felt like something she was disconnected from, no longer hers — but at the same time, something she was trapped inside.

And the worst part?

No matter how much she had hated being stuck in a hospital, the idea of going back to school — back to her life — had felt even worse.

But she was still the Regina George. And that was why she had to go to Spring Fling.

Everyone had told her not to. Her mom. Her doctors. Gretchen and Karen.

But fuck that.

If she was going to be in pain no matter what, she might as well do it on her own terms. She was not about to let everyone’s last picture of her at the only school event that mattered to be the girl who got hit by a bus.

So she went. Corrective neck collar and all.

No one had said anything about it to her face, but she had known what they were thinking. She had seen it in the way people looked at her — like they didn’t know if they should be impressed or horrified.

And maybe it had been a little horrifying. She was high as hell. But she smiled and laughed and stood there in her pretty blue dress, neck brace included, acting like she wasn’t barely holding herself together.

Everyone expected her to be okay, so she acted like it, let the giggly part of the pain medication take over.

But maybe she wasn’t that okay.

Because when she had seen Janis at Spring Fling — standing there in the crowd, watching her like she wasn’t sure if she should pity her or set her on fire — something in Regina had cracked.

She had been too high to think about it when Janis helped her take a sip of her drink. Too high to stop herself from reaching out when she saw the face of the kid she befriended too many years ago.

Janis had smelled the same. A mix of paint and cinnamon, something too familiar that had yanked Regina straight back to middle school before she could stop it.

Before she could stop herself from pulling Janis towards her lap. Before she could stop herself from apologizing.

Not that it mattered. She was high after all, it didn’t mean anything.

And the next morning, Spring Fling already felt like something distant, blurred at the edges like a dream half forgotten after waking up.

And maybe that was for the best, because the moment the adrenaline of the school event faded, real life had come rushing back in — doctor’s appointments, PT sessions…

Regina hadn’t come back to school until the neck brace was gone. And even when she did, it hadn’t been for a full week straight.

Some days, she had been too exhausted, too in pain to move. Other days, she had been too giggly on painkillers to pay attention to class. And if she was being honest, some of those days she would just deliberately skip class because she couldn’t bare the thought of being that vulnerable under North Shore’s social pressure. She knew she had been the one that set that system up, but she was too tired for it right now. The stares, the gossips, the side eyes… Ugh.

And when she did show up? It wasn’t the same.

Everything had changed while she was gone. Cady had taken over, the lines between the plastics and the art freaks had blurred. Gretchen and Karen — her girls — had spent weeks sitting with Janis and that Damian guy, like it was just normal now.

The first time she walked into the cafeteria, she saw her own seat filled by someone else.

She should have been angry. She should have done something about it. But the truth was, she didn’t have the energy for it.

She was still walking through the day in a medicated fog, feeling detached from everything around her. She didn’t have the strength to fight over a lunch table.

So she sat with them. And they acted like nothing was different.

Like she had never been the queen bee.

She wanted to care. But the truth was, she was just too fucking tired.

And just like that summer break started, and Regina barely left the house.

At first, it had been because her body was still recovering, but honestly, it just became easier.

Ignoring texts. Ignoring invites. Gretchen wanted to go shopping? No, thanks. Karen suggested they went over to her place? Not happening.

Well, she also wasn’t as close to them anymore. Maybe she could’ve been, if she had let them in, but she didn’t feel like opening up to anyone, not after everything that had happened. She didn’t feel like letting anyone get too close.

The only person who hadn’t taken the hint was Shane.

He showed up all summer, uninvited and unbothered. Not as a boyfriend — God no —, as a… friend. His words, not hers.

He drove her to appointments. Waited outside her PT sessions scrolling through TikTok or making his stupid bodybuilding poses in the reception’s mirror. And every time she mocked him, he would just smile and say she was jealous. Everything to him was just friendly teasing, light, playful, fun.

And he brought her smoothies. Sat on the edge of her bed telling her about his teammates and the Sabrina Carpenter/Chappell Roan playlist he was fixating on that week. Kept her company even when she insisted she didn’t need it.

It was annoying. And maybe the only thing she didn’t totally hate about summer.

Because with Shane, she didn’t have to fake it. He didn’t expect her to pretend or be little miss perfect all the time. Maybe because he had already seen her at her worst. Maybe because he never expected anything from her.

Or maybe, because deep down, he knew.

Shane had never said anything. Never asked why she had never actually seemed to like kissing him. Pulled away whenever she flinched, even when she swore every time she was fine

But Regina had caught the look in his eyes once or twice.

He knew.

And that should’ve scared her. It did scare her.

But Shane never said anything. He just stayed.

Not because she asked, but because he was just like that. Loud. Silly. A little too nosy. And maddeningly, unshakably there.

And when people asked if they were still together, Regina let them believe whatever they wanted — even though she had broken up with him long before summer break.

It was easier that way.

Easier to let people think she was the same. That nothing had changed. That she was still the untouchable girl who had once ruled North Shore without ever breaking a sweat.

And if she pushed herself hard enough, maybe she could make it true.

She was getting stronger. Because she had to. Because Regina was not weak.

Because when senior year started, she was going to be back. And no one — no one — was ever going to see her vulnerable again.

Well, said and done.

Regina George was back.

She still got the occasional ache when she sat the wrong way or bent too far, but she’d learned to ignore it. The worst part of recovery was over. She could move her neck, she could run — she could command a room again.

And she could do it all in heels.

Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. The weight of designer fabric on her shoulders, the shine of gloss on her lips…

The only thing that wasn’t the same?

The people around her.

The first few weeks of her senior year felt like walking into a house she used to live in, only to find that someone had rearranged all the furniture and changed the locks.

She wasn’t out of power — she was still herself, still beautiful, still worshiped, still the center of gravity in every room she entered. But there were cracks in the foundation, little things that wouldn’t have happened before.

Karen and Gretchen didn’t fall in line the way they used to. They still loved her, sure, but they didn’t follow her blindly anymore. And honestly? Fine. If they wanted to think for themselves, good for them. She didn’t need people hanging on her every word anymore, whispering “Regina said…” like law.

She just needed them to remember who she was.

But then she was sitting with the art freaks.

Ugh.

Regina wasn’t stupid. She knew she didn’t have the same power she once did. She wasn’t untouchable anymore, she couldn’t just decide to sit somewhere else and expect the social hierarchy to bend around her like before.

So she tolerated them.

Damian was… fine. Annoying sometimes, but tolerable. He was funny, at least, and he actually cared about things like fashion and shopping, so Regina could hold a conversation with him without wanting to stab herself with a stiletto.

Cady was the same as always. Self-righteous, exhausting, and acting like she was some kind of saint for keeping the peace.

And then there was Janis.

She was the only person Regina had never been able to make it shrink away.

Everyone else learned to step aside when Regina walked by. Janis stepped closer, stepped in her way.

Everyone else knew how to pick their battles. Janis was always ready for war.

And God, it was annoying.

It was like Janis had made it her mission to remind everyone that Regina wasn’t invincible anymore. She was always right there, rolling her eyes, making sassy comments, throwing knives disguised as jokes.

She was infuriating. The absolute worst.

And Janis wasn’t just some random bitch trying to pick a fight. That was the problem.

That was the real problem.

She was the ghost of something Regina had long since buried and refused to dig up again.

And yet, no matter how many years passed, no matter how much Regina wanted to pretend otherwise, Janis was still there. She was always there.

The last thing she wanted was to spend more time with her than absolutely necessary. So when Mr. Park suggested the tutoring, she hated it immediately.

It was bad enough that she was struggling with art — something she needed for her college application, something she had to be decent at. But to be forced into accepting help? Janis’s help? That was unbearable.

She had almost refused. Almost hired a private tutor instead. Her parents wouldn’t have blinked at the cost and at least then she wouldn’t have to deal with this. But Mr. Park had made a point — a recommendation from him, along with a strong portfolio and participation in the art fair, would make a difference. Especially for someone trying to major in fashion with zero prior art classes.

Besides, Regina wasn’t about to let something so stupid ruin her chances.

So she said yes. Even though she almost threw up at the words.

Which brought her to the present.

Regina was dragging her feet getting ready for school, because at the end of the day — instead of going home — she’d have to stay an extra period in the art room, stuck with the last person she wanted to be around.

It was like waiting for personal torture.

Every ticking second of the clock just brought her closer to that and before she knew it, the last bell had rung, and Regina found herself sitting in the empty art room, arms crossed, waiting.

Waiting for Janis fucking ‘Imi’ike. Because of course she wasn’t there yet.

Regina exhaled sharply, tapping her nails against the table, waiting for the inevitable headache that was about to walk through the door. The room was quiet besides her thin patience being marked by the sound of her sighs. Sunlight poured through the windows over the wooden floors and the air smelled like old paint, graphite, and whatever scent of cheap coffee Mr. Park left behind.

She flipped through her sketches with half-hearted determination to improve that day, scanning the shading exercises she had done in class. They weren’t good. Even she could admit that. The shadows were just dark blocks, the blending was uneven, and there was something off about the proportions, though she couldn’t tell exactly what.

This shouldn't be hard, but it was humiliatingly frustrating. The pile of miserable sketches in front of her were a reminder of why she was stuck here to begin with.

Then the door swung open, and Regina had to get her shit together.

Janis stepped into the art room, tossing her backpack onto a chair like she owned the place. She leaned against the table across from her, arms crossed, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. Good. At least they were on the same page about that.

"Okay," Janis sighed, like she was getting ready for a battle. "Let’s get this over with. Let me see what you’ve got so far."

Regina huffed and flipped open her sketchbook, turning it so Janis could see, the stupid apple sketch looking more like a lumpy, deformed ball.

Janis barely stifled a laugh. "Right. So… shading." She pointed at the page, unsure of what she was even pointing at. “This… isn’t working. Your lines are way too harsh, and it looks like you were trying to stab the paper. You need to build up layers, not attack it."

Regina stiffened. "Oh, I’m sorry, Van Gogh. Next time, I’ll try not to offend the paper. Some of us weren’t born with a paintbrush up our asses"

“Oh, trust me, I can tell.” Janis shot her a sarcastic smile, like she was trying to stay civilized so far, but Regina had just ruined that.

Letting out a dramatic long sigh, Janis turned away and rummaged through the supplies near the back of the room. “Whatever. Just…” When she came back, she was holding a few styrofoam shapes, setting them stacked on the table. Then she grabbed a lamp from the side counter and turned it on, adjusting the angle so the light casted sharp shadows across them. "Draw that. Then I can figure out just how bad we’re working with."

Regina exhaled impatiently, looking at the objects in front of her — a bunch of cubes and cylinders, like something out of a high school geometry nightmare.

Janis pulled out her own sketchbook, flipping it open to work on something of her own. Her drawings were annoyingly good — some even had colourful thread stitched through the paper, like the lines weren’t enough. She made it look easy. But the second Regina picked up the pencil and pressed graphite to paper, art became stupid again and sketching didn’t make any damn sense.

Janis kept glancing at her. Watching. Analyzing. Judging. Picking apart every single thing she did.

It pissed her off.

She didn’t look up, didn’t give Janis the satisfaction, but she could feel the weight of her stare. It made her stomach twist in a way she refused to acknowledge.

"You’re doing it wrong."

Regina’s head snapped up. "I’m doing exactly what you told me to do."

Janis pointed at her hand. "You’re holding the pencil wrong."

"What?" The blonde scoffed.

"You’re pressing too hard. You’re supposed to hold it lightly, let the pencil glide on the paper. And your grip is all over the place."

Regina stared at her, lips parting in disbelief. "I know how to hold a pencil, Janis."

Janis just gave her a look, unimpressed. "Clearly not."

Regina clenched her jaw, barely resisting the urge to chuck the pencil at her face. Janis let out a frustrated groan and, before Regina could react, she was moving around the table towards her. Regina straightened instinctively, her skin tingling with awareness as Janis scooted her chair closer, leaning in hesitantly.

“Before you say anything, just shut up and let me show you.”

Regina opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Janis’s fingers wrapped around hers, adjusting her grip. The touch wasn’t soft, it was technical, but her hands were still warm.

“You’re holding the pencil like you’re about to stab someone. Loosen your grip." Janis adjusted her fingers slightly, guiding her hand into the right position — her rings cool against Regina’s skin, a brief contrast to the warmth of her touch.

“Maybe I am about to stab someone," she muttered.

Janis smirked sarcastically as she looked up at her, but didn’t let go. "Not with this technique, you’re not."

She pulled away, leaning back in her chair, but it bothered Regina the fact that she didn't go back to her original seat across the table. She didn’t like the feel of Janis’s eyes on her so closely.

The space between them — or lack of it — became impossible to ignore.

Their knees brushed, and something about it made her focus harder on the page — or at least try to. She could hear Janis’s bracelets scraping against the desk. Could see her chewing on the tip of her pencil when she concentrated. She also noticed a tiny, stray pencil shaving stuck in Janis’s hair curls and her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and flick it away. It was completely irrational, but once she saw it, she couldn’t unsee it.

Regina tapped her pencil against the desk, frustrated as she stared back down at her horrific sketch. The lines were shaky. The proportions were wrong. And Janis was too fucking close.

“Your lines are still too aggressive,” Janis said once again, like she wasn’t already aware.

Regina scoffed. “Your entire personality is too aggressive, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

Janis snorted, dragging a thumb over the edge of the paper to smudge out the harsher lines. “Oh, but you do complain. Constantly. It’s basically your favorite hobby.”

Regina clenched her jaw, her manicured nail scraping against the pencil’s edge. She was bad at this. She hated being bad at things. Hated the way it made her feel exposed.

She dragged a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face, her lips parting as she exhaled sharply. Her head tilted back, exposing her neck in an unconscious move as she tried to keep it together. “This is ridiculous.”

She felt Janis glancing at her for a moment before looking back down. There was something off about her stare, but Regina didn’t have the time to think too much into it.

“You just have to loosen up,” she murmured, eyes still on the page. “It’s making your shading look stiff and… painful to look at.”

"You know, for someone who’s supposed to be teaching, you have a really annoying way of explaining things."

Janis leaned in slightly, propping an elbow on the desk and resting her chin on her hand, her smirk lazy.

"Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to sugarcoat it? ‘Oh, Regina, sweetie, you’re so talented! Never mind that your shading looks like a toddler’s first crime scene of a drawing—’”

Regina threw her pencil towards Janis’s ribs before she could stop herself. Janis laughed, tossing it back on the table nonchalantly like she’d been expecting it.

It threw Regina off balance. The sound of Janis’s laugh — this time it wasn’t ironic, maybe teasing, but not sarcastic. Her eyes squinted slightly when she smiled. It was quick. Almost unguarded. Then she shook her head and looked back down at her paper.

Janis’s features hadn’t changed that much over the years… Her jawline was sharper now. The always too-loud-for-its-own-good makeup somehow made her eyes stand out even more. The septum piercing and green hair were too much, too out there for Regina’s taste, but it was so Janis. Her fingers were now calloused where the pencil and paintbrush rested. Her body was…

None of that mattered.

But then there was that stupid pencil shaving still tangled in Janis’s hair. And before she could think better of it, she reached over and plucked it out.

Janis jerked back slightly, eyes narrowing wary.

Regina twirled the tiny shaving between her fingers, then flicked it onto the desk as she straightened her posture.

“You know, you should really wash your hair sometimes, ‘Imi’ike.”

Janis scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Regina leaned back and stared at her finished sketch of the foam shapes, lips pressing together tightly, unsatisfied. She tilted her head, furrowing her eyebrows and groaning irritated.

Janis had to bite her tongue. So many insults, so little time.

Instead, she cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “You know you’re making this harder for yourself, right?”

Regina shot her a glare. “Excuse me?”

“You’re just looking at it as a bunch of lines you have to copy, not actual shapes in space.” Janis tapped her pencil against the desk. “Here, let’s try something different.” She flipped to a blank page from Regina’s sketchbook. “Forget the still life for a second. Just draw some cubes. Circles. Any shapes you can think of straight out of your mind.”

Regina stared at her, unimpressed.

“It’s an exercise. Just do it,” Janis insisted.

Regina sighed and picked up her pencil, scribbling out a few quick shapes — her strokes stiff, too controlled.

“Stop trying so hard to be precise. This isn’t about making them perfect—”

“I know what a circle looks like, Janis,” Regina snapped. “Jesus, do you have to talk to me like I’m five?”

Janis raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’re five.”

Regina gritted her teeth, her pencil pressing too hard into the page. She let out a long, suffering sigh, visibly frustrated — not just at Janis, but at herself.

"I'm literally trying to help you, why are you so pissed off?"

Regina rolled her eyes. “I’m not pissed off. This is just my face when I’m with you.”

Janis grinned, infuriatingly smug. “Charming.”

Regina huffed as she dropped the pencil on the desk, rubbing her temples dramatically while Janis watched like she’d seen this show before.

Then, after a beat, the blonde muttered, “Why do you even bother with this?”

“What now?”

Regina gestured vaguely between them. “This. The tutoring. Why did you even bother agreeing to it? You knew it wasn’t gonna work.”

“We both agreed to it,” Janis said, missing the point.

“Oh, really?” Regina scoffed — voice dripping with irony —, then tilted her head as she narrowed her eyes. “You know I need that damn portfolio thing. But what do you even get out of this?”

Janis stared at the ceiling like it might rescue her. “You were there when Mr. Park explained it. I need the extra credit for my scholarship application. Same reason you’re here. College.”

Regina’s lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but she hesitated. Her gaze flickered toward Janis, narrowed slightly, then turned away as she tapped her nails against the table.

“Yeah, I know that…” She trailed off, then frowned, like the thought was annoying her. “But why do you even need a scholarship?”

Janis blinked at her. “Are you seriously asking me why I’d want free tuition?”

“No, I’m asking why you need it,” Regina corrected, her voice sharp, impatient. “You’re not—” She hesitated, then sighed. “Your parents aren’t, like, dirt poor or whatever. They’re clearly not rich, but…” Janis rolled her eyes at that. “I remember them saving up for your college. Didn’t they have some kind of fund?”

Janis’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. It caught her off guard that Regina would remember something like that. Not that it was any of her business.

And even though the blonde wouldn’t let it show, the reminder of how they once knew each other’s life so closely, tasted bitter on Regina’s lips as well.

Janis shrugged. “Yeah, well… Turns out they’re not paying for ‘just another starving artist’ degree.” She let out a dry, humorless chuckle.

Regina stared at her for a second. She wasn’t sure what she expected — maybe some story about unexpected money problems, or that the savings had disappeared somehow. But not this. Even she had to admit — that sucked.

Janis exhaled heavily, her expression hardening when Regina stayed silent.

“Why do you care anyway?”

“I don’t,” Regina cut quickly, fixing her perfect posture. “It’s whatever. Not my problem.”

“Finally, something we agree on. Now, if you’re done interrogating me, can we get back to the part where you suck at drawing?”

Regina rolled her eyes — probably for about the millionth time that day —, but this time, she didn’t argue. Might as well just get this over with already.

And just like that, tutoring had become routine.

Not comfortable — never that — just routine.

Mondays and Thursdays. Same table, same seats, same pointless waste of time.

Regina told herself she barely noticed anymore. The scrape of Janis’s chair as she dragged it too close to point at a random detail on her paper. The way her fingers smudged charcoal like she actually knew what the hell she was doing. The occasional press of an arm, a leg, the brush of fingers reaching for the same pencil.

It was nothing. It meant nothing.

And yet.

She was getting sloppy. Sloppy enough to catch herself watching, staring — her gaze lingering a second too long on the sharp cut of a collarbone, a glimpse of skin when Janis would stretch, her shirt riding up slightly. The dip in her voice when she focused too much on her own explanations. The way she chewed her bottom lip when she was thinking.

Stupid details. Pointless. The kind of thing she would always ignore.

It was proximity, that’s all. Forced, repeated exposure. The table was small. The room wasn’t exactly spacious. And Janis had no concept of personal space. Of course their legs would bump under the desk sometimes, and of course neither of them moved away. That didn’t mean anything.

It was just irritating.

Irritating that she was even thinking about it. That she knew the exact scent clinging to Janis’s skin, lingering hours after tutoring ended. The same cinnamon, paint and sometimes coffee — mostly on days when she showed up with darker circles under her eyes, the kind even makeup couldn't hide. Not that she cared.

But God, she was so fucking tired of feeling like this. Like — sometimes — her mind would go blank and her body reacted — this tingling sensation she couldn’t place — before she even had time to think.

Like she was wrong. Like something in her was glitching, refusing to fall in line.

She wasn’t surprised by it. That would imply some kind of revelation.

Regina knew. She had always known.

She just didn’t care.

She was nothing if not in control, and she refused to let her body tell her something her mind had already decided wasn’t true.

Yet, she hated that sometimes, just for a second, she wished they would lock eyes for a little too long. Unintentionally, perhaps accidentally — not like they used to when they were kids. When looking at Janis had been easy. When it hadn’t felt like a risk.

She hated that sometimes she caught herself trying to map the differences in her features, trying to figure out how someone could still be the exact same while somehow being so much… more.

She could rationalize a lot of things. She could shove a lot of things down, twist them into something unrecognizable — something ugly enough to fit inside the neat, perfect little box she had built for herself.

But this?

This was starting to slip through the cracks.

But she wasn’t about to let it.

Regina had spent the last twenty minutes convincing herself that this wasn’t a big deal.

That the way she kept thinking about it wasn’t something worth analyzing, wasn’t real. It was just annoying, like a song stuck in her head, and nothing more than that.

And yet, here she was.

Still on the track field after P.E. had ended, her sneakers pounding against the ground in a steady rhythm, her chest tight with effort. She should’ve gone straight to the locker room after class, but instead, she kept going. Jogging, like it would somehow jog the thoughts off from her brain and leave them behind on the track.

But they stuck.

So Regina exhaled slowly, pushing herself to go faster, until—

Another pair of footsteps joined hers, falling into sync.

She turned her head just slightly, already anticipating her irritation, only to find Shane Oman jogging right beside her, bare-chested and grinning like an idiot.

She shot him a look. “What are you doing?”

“Cardio, obviously.” He winked at her. “Gotta keep the quadriceps defined.”

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Put on a shirt, Shane. Nobody asked for a Magic Mike audition.”

He just smirked. “Why? You don’t like the view?”

She fake-gagged and stopped on the track, bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Shane slowed to a stop beside her, not even winded.

“No,” she said flatly. “If I threw a stick at you, you’d leave, right?”

“Probably not.” He pulled a bottle of Gatorade from his bag and handed it to her without looking.

Regina hesitated for half a second before snatching it from his grip. She unscrewed the cap and took a few sips in silence, letting the liquid cool in her throat.

“Relax,” he said, stretching his legs lazily just to annoy her. “Not poisoned. Though if it was, that’d be a great way to get back that protein powder you stole.”

Regina ignored him, just wrinkled her nose at the obnoxiously strong smell of cologne radiating off him. “Jesus Christ, did you shower in Axe?”

Shane smirked, stretching his arms above his head. “Gotta keep the fans happy.”

“You mean the locker room janitor who has to breathe that in?” she shot back, making him laugh.

They walked off the track together, Regina sipping the Gatorade slower, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to let him hang around.

“So…” Shane started casually, “how’s art tutoring?”

Her shoulders tensed. She stalled with another sip before answering flatly. “Barely tolerable.”

“Is the hot alt girl still giving you attitude?” He teased.

She glared at him with mock concern on her face. “Name one person who thinks Janis ‘Imi'ike is hot.”

“Like, all the queer girls in senior year? She's not my type, but she's cute.”

Regina made a face like he’d just said taxidermy was a sexy hobby. “No. Stop. Don’t ever put those words in the same sentence again. My ears are filing for a restraining order.”

He didn’t push it, just grinned to himself like he’d won. Then, without a warning:

“Is it weird seeing her again, though? You were childhood friends, right? Must be weird having her back in your life now that she's your… enemy-slash-art-tutor?”

Her grip tightened unconsciously around the Gatorade bottle. She didn’t answer right away.

“We’re not kids anymore,” she said simply, voice unreadable.

“Yeah, but still.” He kicked at the ground, shrugging. “You used to be. I still remember my first bud from kindergarten. I think it’d be dope to meet him again now that we’ve grown up. Dude had the best Pokémon cards.”

Regina rolled her eyes, yet swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She bit back all the memories that kept rushing through her mind and walked over to the nearest bench, sitting down with controlled, deliberate movements.

“I don’t miss her,” she said sharply.

Shane raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say you did.”

Regina turned her head, shooting him a slow, threatening look — one that silently warned that if he said another word on the Janis subject, she’d dig up the rustiest knife she could find to stab him with it.

He raised his hands in innocent surrender. Then, without another word, he reached into his backpack and pulled out two wrapped packages.

One landed on her lap. The other he unwrapped, immediately taking a bite of.

Regina looked down, frowning. “What’s this?”

“I was hungry. I got us bagels.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t ask for one.”

“And yet,” he said, licking a crumb from his thumb, “you got one. It’s rude to reject free food, you know? You don’t wanna be that asshole.”

Regina inhaled slowly, like she was summoning patience from the depths of hell.

He did that sometimes.

Every now and then, on days when she would “forget” to eat, Shane would conveniently suggest food, like it was just something he felt like getting. He never commented on it. Never made it a big deal.

She rolled her eyes but started unwrapping the bagel anyway, knowing damn well he wouldn’t let her be until she had at least one bite.

She looked at it and hesitated for a moment — her mind whispering about the calories even as she took a small bite.

It was her favorite.

Damn it, Shane Oman.

Regina didn’t say anything as she crumpled the wrapper with the half eaten bagel in her fist, shoving it into the nearest dumpster. Shane just watched for a minute, like he knew exactly what she wasn’t saying, but didn’t comment. Instead, he stretched his arms over his head, muttered something about needing to meet his teammates, and jogged off without another word.

Regina stayed on the bench for a moment longer, staring down at her hands. Each time a new thought rushed in, she shoved it back before it could shape — before it became something too real.

She let out a tired breath, pushed herself up, and made her way to the parking lot.

By the time she slid into her car and started the engine, the weight in her chest was still there. It sat there, heavy and constant, even as she pulled out of the lot and turned onto the main road.

Maybe she just needed music.

She reached for her phone at a red light, but her fingers hesitated over it. The thought of some random pop song filling the silence made her stomach twist, like it would be too loud in all the wrong ways.

So she left it.

Just her, the hum of the engine…

And somehow — somewhere between one turn and the next, between I don’t miss her and the truth she refused to name…

She ended up here. And she froze as she finally saw where she was.

That park.

Her foot lifted off the gas.

Regina gripped the steering wheel tighter.

No.

She wasn’t here. It was just the road. Just muscle memory from years of being driven down this same path, back when she was a kid and someone else was behind the wheel. That was all.

Her foot hovered over the gas.

She should go home. There was no reason to be here.

Her hands stayed locked in place, eyes fixed on the playground. The faded reds and yellows of the slides, the wooden structures that always looked too worn-out to be quite as safe as they should.

Her fingers twitched.

She could almost feel small hands tugging at hers, dragging her past the swings, up the hill — “Come on, Gina! Hurry, we have to check if the kingdom is safe!”

Her stomach twisted.

Regina forced her eyes shut, inhaled slowly through her nose. She counted. One, two, three—

When she exhaled, she was already pulling into the parking lot.

Her body moved before she could talk herself out of it. Before she could remind herself that this place wasn’t hers anymore. Wasn't theirs.

The next thing she knew, she was stepping out of the car. Walking forward. Through the laughter and shrieks of kids running across the playground, past the swings swaying under tiny kicking legs.

She barely felt the cool air against her skin. Barely noticed the sound of the dry leaves crunching under her shoes.

The world blurred around her.

And then she was there. Standing at the base of the hill, staring up at the path before her.

It wasn’t far. A short walk, nothing she hadn’t done a hundred times before. But that had been a long time ago, and her feet wouldn’t move.

She swallowed, dragging in a slow breath through her nose. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and cut grass, like it always did around this park. She held it in — long enough to steady herself, to remind herself that she was in control.

Then she exhaled.

And she walked.

The incline was gentle, the kind that wouldn’t tire you unless you were in a rush. The open field stretched before her, fading into carefully spaced-out trees that had stood there for decades, their branches swaying lazily in the wind. The earth beneath her sneakers was uneven, the grass growing, but not quite wild, maintained just enough that it never felt completely forgotten.

But just beyond that — past where the playground laughter and passing cars became background noise — the ruins still stood.

Her steps slowed.

It was all still here. Crumbling stone walls, the remains of what was once a house, long since abandoned. The person who had started tearing it down must have given up, or maybe just forgotten, because it had stayed like this — unfinished, lost to time.

To her, Janis and their childish imagination, it had been a castle.

A secret kingdom hidden away from the rest of the world, with towering walls and ivy curling up the stones, a place where anything could be real.

Their castle.

She could still see it the way they used to — how the worn bricks weren’t just ruins but a fortress, how the open space between the walls wasn’t emptiness but a grand hall. How the trees framed it all perfectly, making it feel like it belonged to another world. A world where they were the only ones who mattered.

She exhaled shakily.

She almost expected to hear the echo of laughter bouncing off the stone. To turn her head and see a child-sized version of herself, twirling in a glittery princess cape, with Janis standing beside her, all smudged knees and wild curls, wielding a stick like a sword.

But the ruins were silent.

And she was alone.

Regina let out a slow breath, her gaze dragging across the ruins.

It was smaller than she remembered.

The walls, once grand in their eyes, were just the fractured remains of an old house, half-buried in overgrown grass and stubborn bushes. The open space they had once called the great hall was really just a patch of uneven dirt, framed by crumbling stone. The trees that had once seemed endless, thick with mystery, were just trees — ordinary, scattered enough to see the real world beyond them.

Only the ruins were real.

But back then? She could still remember how large it had felt when they were little, how they would run through the space, racing between the old stones like they were corridors in some grand palace. How the trees surrounding them had been an enchanted forest, protecting their secret kingdom. How the sunlight pouring through the leaves had felt like magic, golden and warm against their skin, making everything feel bigger, brighter, endless.

It hadn’t changed much. Not really. She could still watch the sunset from here, still see the sky streak with orange and pink through the spaces in the trees. The difference was, back then, their parents would always take them home before the evening fell.

Back then, they never wanted to leave.

Her feet carried her forward before she could think about it, drawing her to the one spot that mattered most — the stone that held their names.

It was still there, right where they had left it.

"Janis and Regina’s castle on the hill."

That’s what they had called it.

And it was theirs.

She ran her fingers over the letters, the stone cool beneath her touch. The lines were uneven, carved clumsily by small, eager hands. They had done it together, giggling as they scratched their names into history, as if that would make it last forever.

Regina swallowed hard.

Maybe forever didn’t exist.

Regina lowered herself onto one of the crumbling stones, sitting with elbows resting on her knees as she stared at the crumbling remains around her.

Even as they had grown up, even as they had stopped believing in knights and princesses, they had still come here. Less for make-believe, more for escape. From their parents after a bad day, from the world when it felt too heavy.

When they were here, they weren’t Regina George and Janis ‘Imi’ike — not the versions of themselves that fit into school hallways and social circles. They were just two kids who knew each other better than anyone else.

They had talked for hours here. Shared secrets, whispered about things they didn’t tell anyone else. Even when middle school started, and everything felt different, the castle on the hill had still been theirs.

This was where Janis had come out to her.

Regina closed her eyes. She could still see it. Janis sitting right where she was now, legs crossed, fingers tugging at the hem of her shorts, voice quieter than usual. The way she had hesitated, like admitting it would change everything.

And it had.

A few weeks later, Regina had made a choice.

A choice that shattered their friendship more than time ever could. More than the wind and rain had worn down these stone walls.

Why she did it didn’t matter.

It was done.

Regina let out a ragged breath, fingers digging into the stone beneath her.

It wasn’t like Janis hadn’t hurt her too.

Sure, Janis had done it for revenge — but that didn’t matter. It didn’t erase the fact that she had torn Regina’s life apart piece by piece.

She hadn’t just used Cady to dismantle her popularity, to turn her own friends against her. She hadn’t just manipulated her for months, orchestrating her downfall without Regina even realizing who was pulling the strings.

No. Janis had gone for something deeper. Something worse.

She had targeted Regina’s body.

Those fucking Kalteen bars.

Regina’s stomach twisted just thinking about them. Weeks — weeks — of eating nothing else, clinging to the hope that they would fix the way she felt about herself. That, maybe, if she just worked hard enough, she could look in the mirror without wanting to cut parts of herself away.

Instead, she had been humiliated in front of the entire school, reduced to a joke. Her body — her greatest insecurity — had been turned into her downfall.

And Janis knew. She had always known. Regina had cried to her about it, whispered every ugly thought, every fear, every moment she wanted to disappear. When they still shared everything, Janis had been the only one who understood.

And yet, that was what she had chosen to destroy her with.

So maybe Regina had hurt Janis first. Maybe she had made the first move in a war neither of them ever came back from.

But no one could say she didn’t have reasons to hate her now.

Regina didn’t even realize she was crying until the tears fell onto her knees. Her chest tightened, a lump in her throat she couldn’t swallow down. She quickly wiped them off, her hand trembling as she stood up abruptly, as if the tears themselves were an act of betrayal.

It was just frustration. Exhaustion. That was all.

She wasn't weak.

She just had to get out of there.

She walked back to her car, her heart racing and her mind still spinning. She didn’t stop, not even when the cold air hit her face, not even when the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the park.

Their so-called castle faded behind her as she hurried to the parking lot, the weight of the past hanging heavy with every step.

She slammed the car door behind her, but even that couldn’t shut out the overwhelming pressure building in her chest.

Regina hated Janis. She hated her for everything that happened, for everything she had done.

It didn’t matter that her breath hitched every time Janis accidentally got too close in the art room, so close she could feel the heat of her skin. The way it always unsettled Regina's nerves, how it made her anxious, self aware of something she refused to name.

It didn’t matter that sometimes, when their eyes locked, Regina could see her own longing in the reflection of Janis’s dark iris.

None of it mattered.

Regina George hated Janis ‘Imi’ike. And that was the only thing that made sense.

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not.”

Janis slammed her locker shut so hard it made a freshman flinch down the hall.

“No,” she repeated flatly, tugging the strap of her backpack higher up her shoulder. “I'm not wasting my afternoon watching jocks run in circles like sweaty hamsters.”

It had barely been ten minutes since the last bell rang, and Janis was already falling victim to her friends’ diabolical agenda.

“You say that,” Damian started smugly, “but what I’m hearing is ‘please take me to the kingdom of tight shorts and overwhelming masculinity.’”

“I’m hearing that too,” Cady added, way too cheerfully for someone trying to drag her friends into hell. “Come on, Jan. It’s track and field tryouts, and Aaron’s in it. He’s kind of nervous, he’s been obsessing over his sprint time all week. So I said we’d all be there to support him!”

“Why would you say such a thing?” she asked deadpan. “No, but seriously — why do I have to go? You can cheer him on with all the other trophy girlfriends and…” She gestured towards Damian. “The local queer pervert.”

Damian gasped, one hand on his chest like she’d wounded him.

“Excuse you. You’re the one killing the fun here. This is a field full of sweaty, muscular, short-shorted boys overflowing with testosterone. If I had to suffer through The L Word with you, then you’re not allowed to skip this.”

“How is that the same thing?” She tried to argue, but Damian was already linking arms with her on one side while Cady grabbed the other, dragging Janis like a human sacrifice as she groaned.

By the time they stepped outside, Janis had stopped physically resisting, but she made sure to drag her boots extra slow across the pavement, squinting up at the sun like it had personally offended her. They made it halfway across the school courtyard — Damian already scanning the crowd like a hawk in heat — before Cady’s voice piped up.

“So… how’s tutoring going?”

“Oh, you mean my weekly descent into hell? Exactly how you'd expect tutoring a blonde tyrant with the emotional maturity of a spoiled chihuahua to go.”

“That bad?”

“It’s Regina George. She breathes and I want to set something on fire.”

“That tracks,” Damian muttered, grinning as Janis shot him a glare. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

Cady chuckled. “Seriously though, are you two still fighting every time you’re in the same room?”

“Not exactly…” Janis narrowed her eyes, thinking. “I mean, yeah. I think being near me triggers something in her tiny reptilian brain. Fight or flight. But lately she’s been… quieter. Like a cold war. We just sit there. She makes a face at everything I do, I make a face back. She snaps, I snap. Sometimes we argue just for the sake of not dying from the awkward silence.”

“Sounds healthy,” Damian said, deadpan. “Super productive environment for learning.”

Janis rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t argue.

“Maybe she’s just shy,” Cady offered, ever the over-optimist.

Janis shot her a look. “Shy? Regina George? Seriously, Caddy?”

“Well, not shy-shy, but like… guarded?”

“She’s always guarded,” Damian said with a dismissive wave. “Eighteen layers of bitch and bulletproof makeup armor. But you did agree to this.”

“Honestly? I didn’t think she’d say yes,” Janis muttered as they climbed up the bleachers. “I figured she’d rather eat her own hair than admit she needed help.”

“Has she thanked you at all?” Cady asked after a beat.

Janis barked a laugh.

“Are we still talking about Regina? She did say, and I quote, ‘You’re slightly less useless than I expected.’ Always a charmer.”

“Yep. That sounds more like her.” Damian nods.

Janis was about to come up with another snarky comment when Cady suddenly perked up.

“Oh, Aaron is starting up!” she tugged at both of them excitedly. “Come on, we need good seats before it fills up.”

“You say that like this is the Super Bowl. There's like ten people here — us included,” Janis muttered, but she followed anyway, trailing behind them with exaggerated reluctance.

The closer they got to the track, the louder the chatter and shuffle of sneakers became.

Cady’s eyes lit up as Aaron joined the warm-ups. “He actually wore the good shorts I told him about.”

Janis squinted. “Define good.”

“The ones that make him look like a sculpted Greek god,” Damian answered before Cady could. “And speaking of…” He nodded towards a group of seniors stretching. “Is that Shane Oman? Because if it is, I would like to personally volunteer as his water bottle.”

Janis let her head fall back against the bleachers. “Damian… Why.”

“Because I’m a man of culture,” he said, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Work it, boys!” And proceeded to make a moaning sound that was definitely not school-appropriate.

A few heads turned as Cady ducked in her seat embarrassed.

“Please stop harassing the athletes,” she said through a smile.

Damian sighed like he was being oppressed. “Fine. But if one of them trips and falls into my lap, I’m not helping them up.”

Janis chuckled with an eye roll and stared down at the track, but her attention was already slipping, the chatter of her friends starting to blur into background noise. The sun was too bright, and the bleachers were warm in that way that made her feel lazy.

She flopped onto her back and rested her arm over her face to block the sunlight until she heard coach Rivera blowing her whistle sharply, signaling the end of the guys’ drills. The athletes jogged toward the sidelines, sweat-soaked and out of breath, and Janis wrinkled her nose at the amount of testosterone in the air.

Aaron jogged over, grinning and panting. “Hey, guys.”

Cady lit up like a Christmas tree. “You were amazing!”

“You didn’t trip,” Damian added helpfully. “We’re so proud.”

Janis just offered him a thumbs up. “Can we go now?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian said, already settling in like he was front row at a fashion show. “The girls’ tryouts are next, and I fully intend to make an entertainment out of this.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned, but didn’t move. Mostly because standing up meant she’d have to walk home and she was deeply committed to begging one of them for a ride later.

As the next wave of girls started making their way towards the track, Damian leaned forward, adjusting his imaginary clipboard.

“All right, let’s see…” He pointed at each girl as they stretched and warmed up, classifying them one by one. “Butch. ‘I peaked in middle school’ girl. She/they bisexual with a gamer boyfriend… Ooh, that one’s giving ‘sports are the only good thing in my life.’ Tragic.”

Cady laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re terrible.”

Janis smirked, sitting up a little straighter to join in on the show. If she had to be stuck out here slowly melting into the bleachers, at least someone was keeping things interesting.

As the last of the boys jogged off the track, Janis let her gaze drift lazily across the field — just in time to spot Shane Oman trotting towards the sidelines, grinning like he’d just won the Olympics. He slowed as he passed a blonde girl standing near the edge of the field.

Was that Regina?

He raised a hand for a high five on his way, and she rolled her eyes but smacked his palm anyway. Then she reached up, pulling her hair tighter into a ponytail with a practiced flick.

Yeah. That was definitely her.

Janis raised an eyebrow. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Well, well, well,” Damian murmured, perking up at the smell of gossip. “What the hell is she doing here?”

Cady tilted her head. “Wait — are Regina and Shane… still a thing?”

Aaron shrugged, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I don't know. Shane says they’re just friends now, but it’s Regina. She’s always doing whatever she wants.”

“They’re definitely still banging,” Damian said with mock certainty. “Look at them. That’s ex-sex energy if I’ve ever seen it.”

Janis groaned. “Please, for the love of god, don’t make me think about Regina George having sex.”

The chatter died down when Regina didn’t just walk away. Instead, she walked past Shane and moved towards the track. Without hesitation, she dropped into a stretch, leaning forward as she reached to press her palms to the ground.

“Wait,” Cady said slowly, concern softening her tone, “Is she… actually trying out? Should she even be doing sports after, you know… the bus accident?”

“She’s been banned from cheerleading stunts,” Aaron chimed in from where he was tying his shoes, equally curious. “Tracks are probably safer than pyramid formations anyway. Guess she’s swapping one thing for another. And she’s also seriously fast.”

“Makes sense,” Damian nodded. “She’s got an overflowing amount of rage to burn off.”

Janis couldn’t help herself. “Of course she’s fast. Years of chasing approval will do that to you.”

“Still,” Damian said, narrowing his eyes, “what’s she trying to prove?”

“Probably that she can still be queen of something,” Janis said, her gaze involuntarily following as Regina shifted deeper into the stretch, the shorts riding up and tugging tighter over her ass in a way Janis, against her will, could not unsee.

She looked away, staring at a patch of dead grass like it was fascinating.

Then back.

Fuck.

“I’m going to throw myself into traffic,” Janis muttered.

She hated herself for even looking — hated that her gaze kept finding its way back like muscle memory. Like her body hadn’t gotten the memo her brain sent out years ago: we don’t do this anymore.

It wasn’t fair. That someone who'd once humiliated her could still pull her in like a magnet — like nothing had changed. Like she wasn’t the same girl who looked her in the eyes and made her feel wanted for half a second, before tearing her down in front of everyone.

And still, she lingered. In the pauses between words, where memories bled through the cracks. In the intrusive thoughts of attraction that fucked up her own body language.

And now here she was, lit up by the golden hour like the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke, running like her life was a Nike ad, and Janis — of all people — couldn’t stop watching.

And as the drills started, Regina wasted no time asserting dominance. Every stride was sharp, deliberate, competitive. She cut ahead of two other girls without even glancing at them.

Damian whistled low. “Damn. She’s gonna eat these girls alive.”

“She’s really fast,” Cady admitted.

“Well, yeah. She’s the Apex Predator. How else do you think she chases her prey?” Janis argued, but her tone was losing bite.

It was hard to sound unimpressed when sweat made her skin glisten under the sunlight. Blonde strands stuck to her forehead, her mouth slightly parted as she caught her breath. She wore impossibly tight shorts — the kind that bordered a dress code violation — and a thin white tank top that clung to every curve, designed specifically to get under Janis's skin.

Don't stare at her ass. Do not stare at her ass.

When Regina finished a run and dropped into a cool-down stretch, Cady cupped her hands around her mouth and called out. “Go, Regina! You've got this!”

Regina’s head snapped towards them, her blue eyes locking onto their group for the first time. Janis could have sworn the blonde’s gaze lingered on her a second longer. Regina frowned and then raised a single eyebrow before turning back to her stretches like they were beneath her.

“Caddy.” Janis started in a low warning tone. “What the hell was that?”

“I'm being nice. She's doing really well,” Cady answered innocently.

“You don't cheer for Regina George.”

“Cady's right though,” Aaron added from the bottom of the bleachers. “The coach is obsessed with speed, so she's totally at the top of her list right now.”

“I think Janis is just mad she got caught staring,” Damian sing-songed, already grinning.

Janis scoffed. “Okay, first of all — whose side are you on? And second, I was checking to see if she’d trip and eat shit so I could at least have some fun while I'm out here stuck with you assholes.”

Damian ignored her entirely. “Ouch! What's that poking my eye?” He threw a hand over his eye, dramatically looking around where Janis was sitting. “Oh, never mind. It’s just your massive boner for Regina’s ass.”

Janis gave him a deadpan look. “Dames, why don't you go die in a corner or something?”

“Because you would just miss me too much.”

“You know, for some reason, I'm weirdly confident that I wouldn't.”

Cady snorted beside her, doing a terrible job of hiding her laugh, while Aaron pretended he didn't hear any of that, though the smirk tugging at his mouth gave him away.

“I hate all of you.” Janis said flatly, flipping them each off.

Once the track tryouts were over, somehow, Aaron got stuck giving all of them a ride home. He didn’t look thrilled about it, but he also didn’t protest — probably because Cady was in the passenger seat smiling after easily convincing him with her best puppy eyes. Meanwhile, Janis and Damian squeezed into the back, their backpacks tossed carelessly at their feet as some random pop song played in the background.

“Sooo…” Damian started, looking up from his phone. “Did you start thinking about what you’re gonna submit for your art portfolio?”

Janis groaned, letting her head thunk against the backseat window. “God, don’t remind me.”

“So I'm guessing that's a no.”

Cady looked at them through the rearview mirror. “Why don't you use the painting you did of us last year? It won an award, right? That's impressive.”

“I don't know…” Janis sighed. “Nothing feels quite good enough. Everything I draw now it's trying to prove something. Deadlines, college apps… Every time I pick up a pencil, I feel like I’m supposed to produce something spectacular, useful.” She fidgeted with her rings while staring out the window. “It’s like I can’t just do it for fun anymore. So I’m once again stuck with blank pages.”

And she hated that — the blank pages. Hated how they stared back like some kind of silent judgment.

It wasn’t just pressure. It was paralysis.

And when she did try, it felt forced. Stiff. Like she was copying herself instead of creating anything new. The ideas were still in her — she could feel them buzzing in her head — but every time she tried to let them out, they evaporated.

Worse than that, it made her feel like a fraud. Like she wasn’t really an artist. Just someone who used to be one.

“You mean to tell us capitalism is slowly strangling your joy?” Damian offered.

“Yes,” Janis nodded. “Exactly that.”

“Relatable.”

Janis hummed, barely there. Tutoring wasn’t helping either — not when her only student was Regina George. When their sessions felt more like emotional warfare than anything remotely productive. The tension hung in the air like smoke, choking out every attempt at focus. She came home from them with graphite under her nails and Regina’s voice echoing in her skull.

“And, of course,” she muttered, the thought scratching her mind, “it doesn’t help that I have to spend my afternoons trying to teach shading to a Temu Barbie who’s less interested in light sources and more interested in pissing me off.”

Damian didn’t even look up from his phone as he murmured. “Someone’s projecting their feelings.”

Janis narrowed her eyes. “I’m not.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You kinda are.”

“I—” Her voice cracked higher than she intended, so she cleared her throat. “I’m not.” It sounded even less convincing the second time.

Aaron, who had been quiet until now, let out a soft snort as he slowed for a red light. “You’re not gonna like what I have to say, but sometimes I swear you guys talk more about Regina than she talks about herself. Which is an insane high bar.”

Janis groaned. “Shut up, Aaron.”

“Told you you weren't gonna like it.”

Janis huffed. “It’s not my fault she’s everywhere right now. She’s on my schedule. In my group. On my last nerve.”

She chose not add: on my skin. Or rather under it.

“Okay,” Damian said slowly, “so, we’re adding emotional repression to the burnout diagnosis.”

Janis flipped him off, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Want to hang out later to get your mind off things?” Cady offered. “We could go to that weird art supply shop you like. The one with the creepy mannequin in the window.”

“Maybe,” Janis said. “If I don’t throw my sketchbook into a fire first.”

“Why do all your mental breakdowns involve setting something on fire?” Aaron asks.

“You know, Aaron, I'd like you a lot more if you were a silent Uber driver.”

…

The art room smelled faintly of damp paper and dried pigment.

The tutoring session had ended ten minutes ago, but the mess hadn’t. The table was cluttered with palettes smeared in faint reds and oranges, jars of cloudy water and cloths that looked like they’ve seen a war or two.

Janis was left gathering the watercolor supplies they’d used, rinsing paintbrushes and trying not to snap as her eyes darted towards the girl doing absolutely nothing to help.

Behind her, Regina sat on a stool like it was her throne — legs crossed and arms folded loosely, phone in hand with the ease of someone who didn’t give a single shit about helping. She wore a fitted white crop top that clung to her curves and a jacket that had slipped off one shoulder in a way Janis refused to believe wasn’t intentional. Even now, her posture was aggravatingly effortless — like she didn’t know, or didn’t care, that every inch of her was engineered to get reactions.

Her brows furrowed as she typed quickly, eyes locked to her screen with laser focus.

Janis didn’t bother hiding her glare. Instead, she slammed a palette onto the counter with just enough force to make a point. “Do you even plan on helping, or are you too busy texting your worshippers?”

Regina didn’t even glance up. Her thumbs moved precisely, as if she were performing surgery and not complaining in a group chat. “Unlike you, I have a social life.”

Janis raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yet you’re spending it angrily clicking your nails against a screen.”

“Gretchen,” Regina muttered, dragging out the name like a curse. “She’s blowing up the group chat about her Halloween party. Again.”

Janis scoffed, clicking shut a palette a little too violently. “Let me guess. Coordinating table placements like it’s the Met Gala?”

She didn’t care, not really. But Damian had also been blowing up her phone about the same party all week, sending screenshots of costume ideas he found on pinterest. It was the first time in a lifetime the Plastics had invited them to something — technically Gretchen had invited them, since Regina clearly wasn’t thrilled about it. Still, being included in their glitter-covered events felt like getting thrown a bone after years of being blacklisted.

“She’s genuinely debating between three shades of orange for the pumpkins,” Regina said, shooting off another text. “As if themed decorations are gonna stop people from dry humping in the pool again.”

“Great to hear you’ll be throwing another orgy this year.” She made a face at the mental image of drunk straight couples grinding against pool tiles. She could almost smell the wet costumes and bad decisions.

“It’s a high school party, Janis. It’s tradition.” Regina finally looked up. “Not that you would know anything about it.”

“What, the dry humping or the party?”

Regina smirked wicked. “Both.”

Janis let out a sarcastic laugh, setting down another pile of watercolor palettes on the supply cabinet and wiping a smear of paint off her arm with the hem of her sleeve. “It’s cute that you would think that.”

“Are you even going anyway?” The blonde asked after a beat.

Janis raised an eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder. “Why do you care?”

Regina leaned back on the stool, shifting her crossed legs and letting her phone rest on her lap like it bored her now. “Gretchen invited you. Against my better judgment. And I’d like to know if I’ll have to watch you sit sadly in a corner all night while wearing five layers of thrift-store eyeliner.”

Janis snorted. “Well, you won’t have to burn your last brain cell worrying about it. Even though Damian won’t get off my dick about going, I still have some self-preservation left.”

“Shame.” Regina sighed, dramatically tragic. “I was just thinking of a gremlin costume that would suit you so well.”

“Funny.” Janis tossed a paint-stained cloth into the sink. “Don’t you have better things to worry about? Like, I don’t know… running laps until someone throws up?”

Regina grinned, slow and smug. “Aww. Are you keeping track of my schedule?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Your brainwashed fans won’t shut up about how you’re Coach Rivera’s new pet. It’s insufferable.”

Regina tilted her head with a smirk. “I think you’re the fan.”

Janis stared at her like she was trying to manifest spontaneous combustion. “No, you’ve got it mixed up. I’m about to be a felon.”

Janis stood at the sink, scrubbing brushes with a little more force than necessary. She could feel Regina watching, how she glanced up from her phone and made a face at the way she rinsed the paint off the brushes.

“You’re getting water everywhere.” Then went back to typing like that was her contribution of the day.

Janis turned slowly, like the serial killer of a slasher movie about to kill her first victim — the dumb blonde. “Maybe if you were actually helping, we’d be done by now.”

Regina looked up once again, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Unlike you, I care about my appearance. This manicure cost more than your entire outfit. I’m not ruining it for this.”

Janis didn’t answer. She slammed the paintbrush down onto the edge of the sink with a wet slap, murky water splashing out onto the counter, floor, and most satisfying of all, the front of Regina's white top.

“What the hell!” Regina jumped up like she’d been burned, holding her shirt away from her body as she stared down at the droplets in horror.

Janis met her eyes, sharp and challenging — the kind of look that dared her to say one more word. “You know, for someone who never shuts up about being perfect, you sure seem allergic to effort.”

Regina’s mouth dropped open, caught between disbelief and fury — but it curled just as quickly into a venomous smirk. “Maybe you’re just jealous because I don’t have to try so hard all the time.” She stepped forward, slowly. “I don’t need to get my hands dirty, Janis.”

Janis gave her a short, bitter laugh. “Classic Regina George. Always looking down on people.”

Regina closed the distance slowly, her heels echoing around the art room one step at a time — a deliberate rhythm that made Janis’s skin crawl in the worst, most inconvenient, way. When she stopped, Janis had to tilt her chin up slightly to meet her gaze, her pulse rushing with awareness. The heels made the difference worse — Regina stood with composed angles and elevated posture just enough to weaponize the height gap.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. “If you want to experience the world up here, I could always pick you up like a toddler.”

Janis didn’t flinch. “Or I’ll kick the back of your knees and make you kneel in front of me.”

Regina’s smirk didn’t falter, but it twitched — pleased, teasing. “Oh, I would love to see you try.”

Janis’s blood burned. She hated the way it thrilled her.

“You know,” she snapped, “you were always like this. Ever since we were kids, you acted like you were better than everyone else. Like you owned the whole goddamn world.”

Janis didn’t need a reply — the change in Regina’s face said enough. Her expression closed instantly, like a door slamming shut. Just for a second, her posture stiffened, her smirk faded.

Janis recognized that look. It was the same one Regina always got when something cut too close.

We don’t talk about this.

That was the unspoken rule. Quietly built during every tutoring session — a mutual refusal to bring up the past. But now it hung between them, raw and loud.

But Regina wouldn’t back down from a challenge. Not now.

“Yeah?” she said quietly, leaning even closer, just enough that Janis could feel her breath near her cheek. Her eyes flicked across Janis’s face, licking her glossed lips slowly. She brushed her fingers against Janis’s waist, sending a shiver up her spine.

“And you’re still everything I said you were back then.” Regina didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to.

“Obsessed,” she whispered, like a dare. “My name is always on the tip of your tongue. Your mind is always onto what to say next to get a rise out of me.”

Janis’s jaw tightened.

“And please,” Regina added, with an infuriatingly soft chuckle, “we don’t even need to talk about your eyes. It's ridiculous how they never leave my body.”

Janis’s expression stiffened.

They didn’t do that.

There had always been an invisible, careful line. A shared refusal to name or acknowledge the tension that lingered between them — whatever it was.

And now Regina was crossing it.

Her smirk deepened like she was winning a game they both swore they weren’t playing.

Then, casually — like nothing had just happened — Regina turned away. She leaned over to the sink, rinsing her hands under the water. Her hips brushed against Janis for a split second as she reached past her.

Janis didn’t stop her. She didn't say anything. She couldn’t trust herself to move.

Regina grabbed the cleanest cloth she could find, drying her hands, then dabbing gently at her top, where a few drops had landed near the curve of her chest. Her fingers moved slowly, deliberate, pressing the cloth against the fabric.

Janis’s eyes instinctively dropped to follow her movements before she could stop them, a second of reflex.

Regina caught her.

Of course she did.

There was the knowing smirk that Janis wanted to rip off her face.

“You’re seriously disgusting,” Janis muttered, her voice low.

Regina tilted her head, mock-confused. “Wasn’t talking about me, but go off.”

Janis glared at her. “You act like you’re so clever, but it’s pathetic how hard you try to get my attention. To get under my skin.”

Regina stepped back just enough to grab her bag from the stool. “Funny. I thought I was already under it.”

Janis’s heart beat faster. She hated how it felt.

Regina threw the cloth in the sink, adjusted her hair like none of this had meant anything, and walked towards the door — hips swaying, slow and deliberate.

She paused in the doorway.

“Oh,” she started, looking over her shoulder, “you should totally come to the party. Might be the only time you'll get to experience actual human interaction.”

Then she left, the door clicking shut behind Regina like a mic drop.

Janis stood still. Her hands stayed braced on the edge of the counter, fingers curled tight around cold metal. Her breath felt too loud in the silence.

She stared at the sink, but her mind was still back in that moment — the exact second something changed. Like a switch had flipped in Regina.

For weeks, they’d been locked in a silent war — pushing, resisting, pretending it wasn’t anything.

But Regina figured it out. She realized she didn’t have to fight Janis.

She could play her instead.

Twist the tension into power.

Make Janis feel it like a hand at her throat — not choking, not quite — just enough to remind her who was holding it.

Janis exhaled shakily, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping through her nose. Her stomach was a knot of heat and disgust.

“Fucking bitch,” she muttered under her breath — but it didn’t sound angry.

It sounded ruined.

Chapter Text

“Oh my god. What are you wearing?”

Damian stared at her like she’d just shown up in a hazmat suit. Which, to be fair, wasn’t that far off from what he might have been expecting.

Janis stood in the doorway of his house, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, already regretting every life choice that had brought her to this moment.

There were only a handful of mistakes in Janis’s life that felt worse than this — letting Damian emotionally terrorize her into going to Gretchen Wieners’ Halloween party.

It had been a full campaign: relentless texting, guilt-tripping, weaponizing secrets and his “pièce de résistance” — a shared Google Doc titled "Reasons Janis owes me (And why friendship is dead)”. Eventually, against her will, she gave in — after threatening to block his number twice —, promising she would at least make an appearance.

Janis looked down at herself like she didn't understand the question. “Clothes?”

“Exactly, Janis. Where’s your costume?”

“I don’t have one,” she said flatly, stepping inside like this was his problem. “I wasn’t planning on coming, remember? So it’s your fault really.”

He groaned as his hands went to his temples, like he was fighting the urge to strangle his best friend.

As Damian moved into the light, it finally clicked — he was already half-dressed in his own costume: classic suit, long black cape, one single dramatically drawn eyebrow arched across his face like a raised question. He wasn’t wearing the mask yet, which only made the look more absurd.

Janis raised a brow. “Are you…?”

“Be nice,” he warned. “I’m still applying eyeshadow.”

She chuckled but didn’t press on it. It was Damian — of course he was showing up to a high school party dressed as the Phantom of the Opera.

She took off her jacket and tossed it on the back of his couch, revealing the tank top under her usual flannel, sleeves rolled up past her elbows. The faded black ripped jeans paired with the rings on nearly every finger and the mess of layered necklaces.

“I look like a lesbian,” she added. “Which is already terrifying enough for a plastic's party.”

Damian circled her like he was inspecting a crime scene. “No, no, no. This won’t do.”

“It’s not a fashion show.”

“It’s Gretchen Wieners' party — It’s worse.”

Janis flopped down onto his couch and stretched out. “Just be glad I’m going at all.”

Damian crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her flannel. His voice dropped like a villain in a soap opera. “Wait…”

“No.”

“I have an idea.”

“Damian—”

He disappeared into his bedroom without another word. Janis sighed and dragged herself up to follow, already anticipating whatever horror he was about to unleash. By the time she reached the room, drawers were opening, clothes flying, and Damian was hunched at the back of his closet.

Then he turned around.

With wolf ear hair clips. A tail. And a fucking collar.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. We’re making this work.”

“Is that from your weird furry cousin?”

“He’s not that weird,” Damian started, his voice going up half a pitch. “Okay, yes, but that is unrelated.”

“I’m not going to a Halloween party dressed as a furry.”

“You’re not a furry. You’re a werewolf.”

“There’s no fucking way I’m wearing that.”

“Why not? You’ve already got the flannel, the attitude, the tragic misunderstood energy—”

“Stop.”

Damian stepped closer, holding the tail like it was a precious relic. “Look, it clips on. It’s easy.”

“I’m not wearing a tail.”

“Then you’re wearing the collar.”

“I’ll burn this house down.”

“One or the other!”

“Why do you even have this stuff with you?”

“He forgot a gift bag from a convention here or something,” he said, waving his hands dismissively. “Don’t think too hard about it.”

Janis backed away as he approached with the tail. “You’re out of your mind.”

As he stepped closer, he quickly hooked his fingers in a tiny hole in her cheap flannel and ripped it wider. She looked down as her mouth dropped open in terror.

“Damian! What the fuck?!”

“Oh, come on, you're a lesbian. You have like twenty of these. One sacrifice won’t kill you.” He grabbed his fabric scissors from the desk, and Janis recoiled as he cut another massive tear across the front of her shirt. “Look at that — authentic werewolf damage. You’re welcome.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Look at it this way — what are you gonna do now? Go to the party in a ruined shirt with no costume? No. You’re wearing the damn tail.”

Before she could stop him, he clipped the tail to the belt loop behind her. The ears were next. She swatted him off, but he was relentless, fluffing them into her hair with terrifying precision.

She caught her reflection in the mirror and groaned disgustedly. Fuzzy wolf ears, torn flannel and a matching tail hanging off her hips. She looked like a Monster High reject caught halfway through transformation.

“I look ridiculous,” she muttered.

“You look fine,” Damian said, patting her back. “Also, the only other costume option I had was Sexy Plague Doctor, so you got lucky.”

“I hate you.”

“You’ll get over it.”

Janis flopped down onto the nearest chair with a huff, the stupid tail swaying behind her.

This was stupid.

She hated these kinds of events — loud, crowded, sweaty. Everyone dressed as some hyper-sexualized form of endangered animal, pretending the night might change their lives when they’d all just end up with a hangover and regret.

She stared at her own reflection as she reached for the eyeliner, jaw tense, trying to convince herself this tension in her chest was just pre-party bullshit.

But it wasn’t the party.

The thought scratched at the back of her brain like it wanted to be let in — but Janis kept the door locked. Unfortunately, the truth had a way of bleeding through the cracks, no matter how hard she tried to keep it out.

And it was Regina. Because of course it was. Again.

It had been for days, ever since that tutoring session — the one that started with an argument and ended with something worse than shouting.

That was the moment things changed. The second Regina had figured out that she still had power — that the same queerness she used to humiliate her with was still lingering, still visible, still usable.

It had become a game. A cruel, flirty, fucking impossible game. Regina would lean too close, say things in that breathy voice that danced the line between mocking and seductive — everything just so Janis kept losing.

And tonight, she would be stuck in the same house as her poison. With music, alcohol, low lighting, sexy costumes. It would be too easy for Regina to turn it up a notch. And Janis knew herself — she was too much of a useless lesbian not to play along.

She furrowed her eyebrows at her reflection, cursing under her breath as her eyeliner turned out wobbly on one side.

Damian raised a brow. “You okay?”

Janis leaned back in the chair, her voice dry and ironic. “Sure.”

He stared unimpressed. “I get it. You're allergic to social functions, costumes, and joy. You can't stand the thought of being threatened with a good time.”

She glared back at him.

“But,” he added, reaching for a makeup brush, “you’re also allowed to let yourself be a horny teenager who makes bad decisions at a party once in a while.”

Janis rolled her eyes.

“And you agreed to this, so you don't have a choice.” Damian grinned, blowing her a kiss as she flipped him off.

They pulled up to Gretchen's house in Damian’s grandma’s Jazzy just as a girl in fishnets tripped over a pumpkin on the front lawn.

The house was big — like, “I live in a separate wing from my parents” big. White columns were wrapped in fake cobwebs, carved pumpkins glowing along the porch, and strands of orange string lights draped across the balcony like someone rich kid tried to be festive without losing aesthetic points. It was the kind of place where Halloween decorations probably cost more than most people's rent — and still somehow looked like they were all bought from Target.

Music blared from inside, the bass pulsing loud enough to feel it in the ground beneath them, some terrible remix of an overplayed song Janis was pretty sure was called “Rock That Body”. The front yard was already a mess — red plastic cups in the bushes, candy wrappers stuck to everyone's shoe, and half the senior class stumbling around in costumes that were either tiny, lazy, or both.

There was a heated pool in the backyard, the steam rising in waves, lit up with those obnoxious neon party lights that made everything feel like a scene in a teen drama. A couple of people were already in the water, still in costume — if being half-naked with hats or animal ears would even count —, drenched and shouting over the music. Someone nearby was throwing glow sticks like confetti. A girl dressed as a hooker pirate was sitting on someone’s lap, aggressively making out, while another group posed for Instagram photos against a wall of dollar-store caution tape.

Janis stepped off the jazzy and immediately considered getting back on and faking a medical emergency.

But then she looked at Damian — cape swishing behind him with way too much flair for someone arriving in a mobility scooter, eyes sparkling like he'd just been crowned Homecoming queen and king.

Fuck. Too late to turn back now.

The second they stepped inside, the chaos of the party swallowed them — loud music, too many bodies crammed into one house, and the unmistakable smell of sweat, tequila, and someone’s mint-scented vape.

It didn’t take long for Janis to spot Cady and Aaron across the living room. Or, well, mostly Cady, the thin laurel wreath in her hair glowing under a chandelier and a single peacock feather glued to the front of her shoulder. Her white dress looked hand-cut and pinned together, but in a “I tried” kind of way. The goddess Hera, Janis guessed — mostly based on the pairing she made with Aaron.

He was standing beside her, looking like he’d been last-minute dragged into the aesthetic. Aaron wore what was basically a white bed sheet and held a cardboard lightning bolt that was clearly made by Cady — uneven gold glitter glue and all. Zeus, of course.

Cady’s face lit up when she saw them, pulling them both into a hug. “Janis! You actually came!”

“Unfortunately.”

As soon as Janis pulled away from the hug, she noticed both Cady and Aaron staring confused at her “accessories” giving her outfit a polite, almost worried once-over.

Right. The werewolf costume.

“And you came as a…?” Cady started, but Janis spared her from guessing.

She raised a hand like she was pleading the Fifth. “Don’t ask,” she said. “This is Damian’s doing.”

“You’re welcome,” Damian murmured from behind her, already pulling a can of soda from an ice bucket like he’d lived there all his life.

Cady barely gave Janis time to process everything going on around her before she looped an arm through hers. “Come on, the girls are in the kitchen. You have to say hi!”

Before she could object — or fake a sudden allergic reaction to pumpkins — she and Damian were being pulled through the crowd, dodging guys in football jerseys and at least three Barbies.

The kitchen looked as if a combination of a liquor store and a Pinterest board was raided. Empty bottles lined the counter, and someone had filled a punch bowl with a red liquid that definitely wasn’t juice. Gretchen and Karen sat on barstools taking selfies.

Gretchen was dressed as a sexy tiger — orange crop top with stripes, cat ears, and a tail pinned to the back of her mini skirt. Karen had gone even more committed to the bit, in a very tiny brown dress with white spots down the front. Janis stared at the animal ears headband and tried to make sense of it. A sexy doe, she guessed.

“Damian! Janis!” Gretchen squealed, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, you came.”

Karen clapped excitedly. “I thought you hated parties.”

“She does,” Damian said brightly, giving them both air kisses like they were at fashion week. “I dragged her here as an act of public service.”

Gretchen’s gaze flicked over him approvingly. “Is that Phantom of the Opera? That’s really cute.”

“Finally, someone gets it,” Damian said, holding her hand like he was moved by the compliment.

Karen leaned in a little, squinting at Janis’s costume. “Wait… what are you supposed to be?”

Gretchen tilted her head. “...a puppy? That doesn't sound like you.”

Janis opened her mouth to deny the puppy accusation, but Karen snapped her fingers. “Oh! You’re doing a Teen Wolf cosplay, right? From that show where the hot werewolf plays lacrosse?”

She looked so confident, Janis didn’t even have the heart to correct her.

“Sure,” she muttered. “Let’s go with that.”

As Karen launched into a story about how she was pretty sure she saw a real werewolf once at summer camp — “because it had weird eyes and also it howled at the moon, which is like, not a coyote thing, right?” — someone brushed past the group to pour themselves something questionable into a cup.

Shirtless, wearing only jeans, cowboy boots, and a very committed cowboy hat, Shane Oman looked like he had wandered off the set of a gay rodeo calendar. He had glitter on his abs — possibly on purpose, but most likely stolen from someone else’s costume mid makeout.

“Shane!” Gretchen chirped, reaching out to poke his side. “You didn’t say hi!”

He turned with a grin, raising his drink like he was toasting a crowd. “My bad — was on a life or death mission to find literally anything that isn't just straight up liquified sugar. Wassup, guys.”

He looked around at everyone and smiled at Janis and Damian with a surprised double take. “Hey, we never see you two at parties. Janis and…” He squinted like he wasn't sure if he would get it right. “Damian, right? Regina told me a lot about you. Well, mostly complained, but you know her. That's basically her love language.”

Everyone nodded and Janis just rolled her eyes.

He grinned approvingly at her costume. “Punk werewolf. Cool.”

Damian gasped as if he was flattered. “Thank you!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Janis muttered, but she couldn’t stop the tiny twitch of a smile.

“Hey Shane,” Gretchen leaned in, “have you seen Regina?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding towards the back of the house. “She’s over there with that Jackson Wang guy. He’s been trying to flirt with her for, like, twenty minutes. Dude’s persistent. I gotta respect the commitment."

Janis followed the direction of his nod, her gaze running across the kitchen, past a couple of juniors dancing, into the massive living room that was easily twice the size of her entire house.

Even from across the room, Janis could see Regina half-listening to the jock in a Thor costume, sitting on the arm of an expensive-looking couch like it was her throne.

He was talking with the confidence of a guy who thought Regina was definitely going to sleep with him later. She wasn’t even looking at him. Her eyes scanned the room with a practiced kind of boredom, as if she’d already memorized the layout and was waiting for something better to happen.

Truth be told, if you asked the color of Jackson's hair — or anything really — Janis wouldn't be able to tell you. Her eyes were locked onto Regina's costume like a siren's curse.

Janis had expected something stupid and overdone. A playboy bunny. A sexy nurse. Maybe Catwoman. But this?

The goth vampire costume was an assault to Janis's self-control.

Her dress was blood red, silk that clung to every curve like it had been stitched to her skin. A black corset hugged her waist so tight Janis could feel her own breath hitching. Dark metallic eyeshadow framed her eyes, red gloss on her lips just slightly smeared by the fake blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. More of it trailed down her collarbone, into the cleavage with just a drop between her breasts — like she’d just come back from seducing her latest victim.

Her fangs glinted when she smiled, looking like she was about to sink them into Jackson's throat, ready to use her knee-high stiletto boots to step on him.

Janis’s brain stuttered to a full stop.

Damian leaned in as he whispered. “Have some self-respect, woman. Pick your jaw up off the floor.”

She barely had time to curse him out before Shane cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, G! Over here!”

Regina’s head snapped towards them like she’d just been waiting for an excuse to escape. She gave Jackson a sharp smile before walking over, her hips swaying like she ruled the world.

The second her eyes landed on Janis, she let out a loud, high-pitched cackle — sudden enough to turn a few heads.

Janis exhaled slowly. Of course.

Regina didn’t bother saying hi to anyone. She just stepped in, looked Janis up and down, and smirked.

“And who’s this puppy with the tail between her legs?”

“Oh, oh!” Gretchen exclaimed excitedly. “I guessed puppy too!”

Regina rolled her eyes like it would somehow push Gretchen out of her line of sight. “Whatever. It’s pathetic.”

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Shane said, completely unfazed. “I think it looks dope.”

“Stop saying dope.” Regina aimed a controlling smile his way.

Shane only shrugged, sticking his tongue out at her unbothered.

Janis raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Funny, I'm actually surprised by your costume. Why didn’t you just come as Satan? Would’ve saved you the trouble of dressing up at all.”

Regina chuckled. “And you could’ve come as a functioning human being, but I guess it’s harder to fake that.”

And as Regina turned around, Damian leaned in to whisper.

“Yikes.” Without waiting for a reply, he placed a red plastic cup into her hand. “Here. You’re gonna need this.”

Janis eyed the drink suspiciously, but figured if she wanted to survive the night — or at least the next hour — she’d better focus on not losing her mind.

She sipped slowly, scanning the room as she took in the chaos of music, laughter and spilled drinks on every corner. It was loud and the kind of sensory overload she usually hated. But by the time she downed her second drink, she started to loosen up.

Damian and Gretchen were deep in conversation near the corner of the room, gossiping about everyone’s drama — who was hooking up with who, who’d gotten caught sneaking out last weekend, who was definitely going to regret tonight by dawn. Janis found herself laughing genuinely at Gretchen’s exaggerated impressions and Damian’s sarcastic comments.

Gretchen was midway through explaining how Stacy's boyfriend was actually hooking up with the cheerleader's brother — when Janis actually snorted into her drink. A minute later, Damian and Gretchen were reenacting how the swim team captain got caught making out with the principal’s nephew behind the bleachers, including all the positions of everyone involved. It was absurd and kind of hilarious.

When the third drink hit her system, Karen practically dragged her out to the backyard while shoving her phone in Janis's hand, insisting she record a TikTok dance she had just taught Cady. Janis rolled her eyes but hit record anyway, ready to get it over with. She exaggerated her facial expressions, offering mock serious nods at Karen’s hip sways and holding back her laugh at Cady’s awkward spins. Somewhere between the finger hearts and Karen nearly smacking Cady in the face, she figured she was enjoying herself more than she cared to admit.

Of course, every few minutes, Janis’s eyes betrayed her, flicking back to Regina — how she laughed too loud and leaned too close to whoever was near. She looked careless and tipsy to say the least — yet she danced like she knew every pair of eyes in the crowd was on her, and Janis hated that she was one of them. She ripped her gaze away, shaking it off with just another sip of alcohol — and another, and another…

And between the massive house and the overload of costumes, at some point Janis lost track of Damian. She squinted across the pool area, standing on her tiptoes and stretching her neck to try to catch a glimpse of him over a crowd — when suddenly, a voice cut through the noise behind her.

“Do you need to get on my shoulders to see up there, kiddo?”

Janis turned around to find Regina standing with a smirk and a vodka bottle in hand. The hem of her dress had ridden up indecently high through the night, showing off more of her thighs than Janis was comfortable acknowledging.

“Piss off,” Janis murmured, eyes snapping back to scanning the crowd.

Regina stepped closer, deliberate and unhurried, until her perfume cut through the smell of alcohol and cheap candy. Her fingers traced along the tail dangling from Janis’s belt loop, a lazy claiming motion.

“Tails up, wolfie,” she whispered, voice low and teasing, so close Janis could feel her breath against her temple.

Janis felt heat crawl up her neck, but it was just the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol.

Regina lifted the bottle between them. “Thirsty?”

Janis arched an eyebrow. “What, you planning to poison me?”

“If I wanted to kill you, Janis,” Regina started, licking her lips slowly, “you’d already be dead.”

“That’s reassuring,” Janis deadpanned, but her gaze lingered on the bottle. She needed more alcohol anyway.

Regina grinned predatory. “Tilt your head back.”

Janis narrowed her eyes, hesitating just long enough to prove it was a choice. Then, glaring, she did, opening her mouth in defeat. Regina watched her intently, gaze tracing every line of her face as she poured the drink.

The vodka hit her tongue with the familiar bitter taste, filling her mouth just a bit too much, spilling from the corner of her lips and trailing down her chin. Regina pulled the bottle back, but before Janis could wipe her mouth, Regina’s fingers brushed her jawline, swiping away the liquid.

Janis jerked back, heart slamming against her ribs. “Don’t.”

But Regina’s smirk only deepened, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.

She took a small step closer, the vodka bottle still dangling carelessly from her hand. “So… first party in how long? Four years? Five?”

Janis dragged her sleeve over her mouth, trying to ignore the phantom heat where Regina’s hand had been. “Bold of you to assume I count the years between your invitations.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d ever invite you,” Regina replied, tilting her head with mock innocence. “But here you are. Like a stray cat that wandered back to the neighborhood.”

Janis's glare sharpened. “Stray cat, huh? If I’m the stray, what does that make you? The witch who feeds them so they keep coming back?”

“Please.” Regina’s eyes dragged down and back up, deliberate. “You’d starve without the attention.”

Janis scoffed, but her pulse betrayed her. Regina set the bottle down on the table behind her, brushing past just enough that their hips grazed. She leaned in, lips almost at Janis’s ear, so she could whisper over the sound of the bass.

“And you already look one drink away from begging.”

The words shot through Janis so fast it pissed her off. Before she could spit back something sharp, Regina was already gone, melting into the crowd with the usual lazy sway to her hips — her ass looking phenomenal.

Janis huffed and reached for the vodka the blonde had left behind, ready to drown out the heat still burning on her skin — but Damian appeared beside her, intercepting before she could.

“Wow, easy on the drinks.” He gently took the bottle from her fingers and placed it back on the table.

Janis exhaled hard, dizzy at the edges. “Where were you? Regina’s driving me insane.”

“That’s kinda her full-time job. And I left for like, ten minutes.”

“Whatever.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Let's just… see how much longer I survive this party.”

He patted her back, looping an arm through hers and pulling her back towards the music. “You’re doing great, I have faith in you. I mean, you’ve only made one enemy in the last few hours. That's real progress."

She snorted, shaking her head, letting him tug her along anyway.

The living room had somehow grown more chaotic since they’d been outside. Someone had dragged the karaoke mic out, and now a girl stood on the coffee table, scream-singing an early 2000s pop song while people cheered her on. Janis couldn’t help laughing when Damian clutched his chest at every off-key note like it hurt him.

They pushed through the crowd, sometimes catching free drinks shoved into their hands by random seniors, sometimes getting caught in random conversations. At one point, Damian disappeared into a circle of theater kids acting out Romeo and Juliet with plastic costume swords, leaving Janis to grin at his ridiculousness.

For a while, she actually let herself enjoy it — the dizzy warmth spreading through her veins. But alcohol had a way of catching up fast. By the time she realized she’d lost sight of Damian again, the room felt like it was tilting the wrong way, voices blurring together in a mess of loud sounds.

She lasted maybe another ten minutes before she leaned towards Gretchen — who was chatting with a guy so aggressively unattractive Janis almost respected his confidence. “Hey, where’s the bathroom?”

Gretchen perked up, eager to be useful, gesturing towards a door near the staircase. “Right there.”

Janis muttered a thanks, but the second she cracked the door open, she froze, then huffed. A couple was perched on the toilet lid, devouring each other, the wet kissing noises so grossly loud they almost drowned out the music. The guy barely lifted his head. “Occupied.”

Janis wrinkled her nose and shut the door fast. Gretchen winced in sympathy. “Actually, yeah — you can use the bathrooms upstairs.”

Janis glanced towards the staircase. The upper floor was taped off with neon caution tape that said off limits while still keeping up the party theme. She shrugged and stumbled over the tape, the noise downstairs blessedly dulling with each step. She flipped on the bathroom light and braced her palms against the sink. Her reflection stared back at her, blurred and unsteady, alcohol humming through her bloodstream.

When she opened the door again, the hallway felt quiet. She should’ve just gone straight back down, but instead she noticed a half open door, dim light coming from inside the room, curiosity tugging her harder than common sense.

Janis stepped closer, pushing the door just enough to peek inside. The bedroom was exactly what she’d expect from Gretchen Wieners — pink walls, lace pillows, a vanity desk cluttered with perfume bottles and heart-shaped jewelry boxes. And in the middle of it, like she belonged there, was Regina George.

She stood at the vanity, bent slightly as she leaned into the mirror to touch up her lip gloss. The curve of her back was sharp against the soft glow of the lamp and the warm light caught in her hair, casting golden highlights across her waves. She didn’t even look startled to be caught — just pressed her lips together to smooth the gloss, then glanced at Janis’s reflection in the mirror with the twitch of a smirk.

She was clearly drunk, that much was obvious in the way her balance wavered in the slightest. But then again, Janis’s own head wasn’t steady either, the vodka pulling her words to the surface faster than her brain could filter them.

Regina's voice was low when she spoke. “You lost, puppy?”

Janis arched an unimpressed brow at the nickname, catching her own reflection in the mirror and letting out a short, bitter laugh. She pulled off the wolf ears from her hair and, with a defeated roll of her eyes, set them on Gretchen’s bedside table. She took one lazy step into the room, the alcohol in her system loosening her tongue, emboldening her.

“Funny,” she said, her voice a mix of amusement and bite. “You’ve been talking about my costume all night, yet you’re the girl who literally just splashed blood on her tits for attention and called it a vampire.”

Regina’s smirk deepened, the kind of smirk that made it clear she knew exactly what effect she had. “Worked, didn’t it?” She tugged down slightly on her cleavage, just enough to catch Janis’s eye in the mirror. “Did you come all the way here just for the view?”

Janis huffed, yet letting herself relax into the recklessness. “Also wanted to let you know everyone still thinks you’re a bitch.”

Regina grinned, leaning ever so slightly closer to the mirror, fingertip brushing on the corner of her lip where the gloss met the fake blood, smearing it just slightly. She showed no reaction as she deliberately touched the tip of her tongue to her fake fangs. Then her eyes glinted in the lamp light, flicking to Janis’s reflection, calculating her words.

“And everyone still thinks you’re an angry dyke.” Her tone was maddeningly casual, smooth — cutting. “At least we’re both consistent.”

The slur sliced through Janis like a knife and she felt the walls of the room shrinking until it was just the two of them. She let the taste of vodka and the old, bitter memory linger, her pulse quickening with irritation.

“Still the same homophobic shit since middle school, huh?” Janis remarked, stepping further in, her boots heavy against Gretchen’s stupid fluffy carpet. “You really must have a kink for ruining people’s lives.”

Regina turned on her heel to look at her, leaning back fully against the vanity, her posture somehow lazy and controlled. “You torched a doll with a Bunsen burner.” Her voice was mocking, almost amused. “Please. You ruined your own life.”

Janis laughed bitterly, a sharp sound that ricocheted off the walls. She moved in a short, pacing circle near the door, trying to tame the rage spiraling inside her. It didn’t work. The alcohol in her bloodstream only made her tongue bolder, her words heavier with all the anger she’d kept bottled for years.

“Right,” she spat, voice tight with the resentment slipping through her lips. “Because you’re so fucking blameless.”

Her throat tightened — the tight coil of adrenaline, the familiar sting of the memories, the slur, the humiliation she had never forgiven… She gestured messily as she raised her voice, unable to contain it. “You humiliated me for fun. Lied. Made me feel like I imagined…” Her voice cracked on the last words, and she had to stop herself for a moment before she kept going. “…everything we had.”

For the briefest second, Regina's smirk almost faltered, yet she covered it immediately, pushing from the vanity to stand fully upright. Her movements were slow, deliberate, measured, every motion designed to hold power in the space between them.

“Didn’t you?” she asked softly, taking one step forward.

Janis’s chest tightened. She pointed sharply at Regina, voice heavy, shaking slightly with the heat of her anger. “You don’t get to rewrite it. You don’t get to pretend it was nothing.”

Regina stepped even closer, each heel click precise, echoing faintly in the quiet of the upstairs room. She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing, letting Janis feel the full impact of her presence, of the control she wielded without even raising her voice. “It was whatever you wanted it to be, Janis. You’re the one who made it into some tragic love story.”

The words landed like stones. She flinched at the ease with which Regina dismissed her feelings. Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles whitening as she fought the urge to throw herself at the person who had caused so much pain. Her head spun, not just from alcohol, but from the raw, unfair weight of it all. She felt trapped in this old fight, the past bleeding into the present as she heard her self-control being torn into nothing.

Every instinct screamed at her to defend herself, to push back, to not let her win again, the challenge consuming her from the inside out. But instead, her voice broke into ruins.

“I trusted you.”

The silence that followed was suffocatingly loud.

Regina’s face shifted for just a second — the barest flicker of something fragile beneath the armor of control she wore so well. Janis couldn't tell if it was guilt, pity, or just the memory of the first time she chose cruelty over closeness, when she took Janis’s trust and broke it like it meant nothing. Her eyes wavered with that uncertainty, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. She lifted her chin again, hardening the line of her jaw.

Slowly, she closed the distance separating them — like a predator circling prey. And then her hand reached, fingers brushing against a lock of Janis’s dark hair, pushing it back from her face as if she had the right. The touch was soft, almost intimate.

Janis recoiled instantly, jerking her head away, disgust flashing across her features like a warning.

Regina didn’t seem bothered by it. She only tilted her head, voice dipping low to nearly a whisper as she corrected Janis's statement.

“You wanted me.”

Something inside Janis cracked wide open, deeper than rage, deeper than humiliation. Her face hardened in an instant, expression solidifying. Her voice, when it came, was lower, steadier, drained of any tremor, all the rawness burned down into something colder.

“Well. I hope you’re happy now.” Her gaze dragged across Regina up and down, dismissive in the way one could assess damage. “You’ve turned into something I despise.”

Regina studied her carefully, eyes tracing Janis’s face like a scale. And then she mirrored her — her gaze ranking up and down Janis’s frame with the same deliberate slowness.

The tension in the air thickened, charged, each of them daring the other to break first.

And then Regina moved. A dangerous tilt to her body until she was close enough that Janis could feel the heat radiating off her skin, close enough that the vanilla of her perfume slid into Janis’s lungs and her breath tickled her skin.

Janis locked her feet to the carpet. She couldn’t give Regina the satisfaction of backing down.

Regina let the closeness linger, let the seconds weigh between the inches that kept them from touching.

“Yeah?” she murmured. “Yet I bet you’d still let me kiss you.”

Janis’s hands shot forward, slamming hard against Regina’s shoulders. The shove came dipped in fury, from a place that wanted nothing more than to scorch Regina to ash.

“Fuck you,” she snapped, voice sharp as a dagger. “You don’t get to do that again.”

Regina barely staggered a step back. Instead, she laughed under her breath, low and bitterly amused, straightening with a grin curling across her lips. She once again closed the distance Janis had tried to carve out as her smile glittered with venom — making sure to showcase her cleavage as she did.

“You didn’t stop me the first time.”

Janis’s teeth clenched, her eyes burned with that cutting glare that wanted to rip the laugh out of Regina’s throat. “That wasn’t a kiss. It was just another one of your fucking performances. A cheap joke for everyone else’s entertainment.”

Regina tilted her head, simulating thought, then smiled with an edge of cruelty like the memory amused her. Her voice softened, but her words were like a weapon sharpened into a whisper.

“Did it feel like a joke to you?”

The question wasn't tender. It wasn't vulnerable. It was a challenge. She wanted to corner Janis into betraying herself.

Janis’s rage sat heavy on her tongue, but she didn’t flinch, spitting every word like a whip. “It felt like manipulation. Because that’s all you know how to do. Twist people. Break them. Smile while you’re pulling the strings.”

That spark of defiance — it thrilled Regina. A slow smirk crept at the edge of her mouth as she reached up, fingers brushing the side of Janis’s neck, the touch warm and intimate.

Janis's reaction was instant. Her own hand shot up, clamping over Regina’s wrist so hard her nails dug into the soft skin. She meant to shove her off, to tear her away, but somehow her grip only held her there, keeping her touch locked in place — as if daring Regina to flinch first.

She didn't. Instead, the blonde’s breath ghosted over Janis’s lips. “Then tell me you didn’t want it. Tell me you didn’t like it. I dare you.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Janis hissed, her grip tightening over Regina's wrist. Her chest rose and fell, her voice shaking with hatred and anxiety.

Neither of them moved. The silence was suffocating, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, the ghost of their history pressing down on them. Regina’s gaze dipped, her eyes flicking down to Janis’s mouth, then climbing back up slowly, predatory and intentional. When she finally spoke, her voice was husky, heavy with certainty.

“You still want this,” she murmured, words soft as a blade sliding in. “You never stopped.”

And then she closed the gap.

Janis staggered a step, her back hitting the door with a dull thud, the wood creaking with the sudden shift. Her lips froze beneath Regina's, every nerve in her body locking into stillness, screaming at once. Her heart knocked loud against her ribs, climbing high into her throat as Regina George kissed her.

The half-open crack behind them snapped shut with the pressure, sealing them in, the noise of the party muffling instantly.

The sharp click of the door cut through the fog in Janis’s head like a gunshot.

That was all it took.

Janis’s hands shoved in a sudden burst, forcing Regina back, switching their positions in one brutal motion. Now it was Regina’s back against the wall, Janis crowding her space, breath ragged with emotion.

Her palms pressed flat against the cool wall on either side of Regina’s head, trapping her there. But Janis didn’t put space between them — if anything, she stayed close, her voice warning as her eyes burned into Regina’s.

“You still think this is about control, don’t you?” Janis’s voice was thick, but there was an edge of something fervid under it, daring Regina. “But I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses to kiss me.”

Regina hesitated for a flicker of a second, but then she grinned poisonously.

“You really think you’re that irresistible?” She chuckled, soft and steady. “God, you’re more delusional than I thought.”

Janis let out a humorless laugh. “You’re one to talk. If you’re so in control, why don’t you pull back? Keep your fucking distance from the dyke you hate so much.”

Regina’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t move away. Instead, her fingers brushed along Janis’s jawline almost gently before catching her chin — her other hand twirling a loose strand of her dark hair.

“Because I like having you wrapped around my finger,” Regina tilted Janis’s face up towards hers, biting lightly on her lower lip with a smirk. Janis let her. “And I know you still want this.”

Regina’s thumb lingered on Janis’s jaw, her breath hot and heavy with alcohol. For a moment, it almost looked like she was going to say something — but instead, she leaned in and kissed her.

Regina George kissed like she talked — with indulgent confidence and a need for control. Like a girl who had always gotten what she wanted, when she wanted, handed to her on a silver platter. She kissed like she was building a reputation — like she played to win.

But when their lips met, Janis made one crucial decision:

If Regina wanted to play her, Janis was going to show her who was really in control.

The kiss was urgent and messy — the kind that carried years of unsaid wants, tangled in gloss, vodka and heat. Regina’s lips were slick with strawberry flavor, sticky and sweet against Janis’s dry lips, complementing in a way that shouldn’t have worked, but did. They moved as if neither of them could stand to waste even a second, like every buried thought and swallowed word had finally found its way out through the heat between them — too harsh to be tender, too hungry to be just hate.

Regina’s hand slid up into Janis’s hair, tugging lightly at the strands at the back of her head, pulling her closer, forcing the angle of the kiss. But Janis didn’t yield — she pushed in harder, her own mouth demanding, claiming, like she could tear down every illusion of control Regina had built.

Regina's other hand wandered lower, trailing down Janis’s spine until it brushed the curve of her hip, fingers grazing the hem of her pants. She was about to press further when her nails caught on something clipped to Janis's belt loop.

She laughed against Janis’s mouth, smug and mean. “God,” Regina breathed, pulling back just enough to glance down. “I still can't believe you actually wore a tail to the party.”

Janis groaned, huffing with frustration. “You’re such a bitch.” But the corners of her mouth twitched, traitorously amused. As much as it pained her to admit, it was kind of ridiculous.

Regina mocked, tugging slightly harder on Janis's hair. “It’s like you’re basically begging for a leash.”

Janis’s irritation rose, but she refused to give Regina the satisfaction. “Funny,” she muttered, unclipping the tail from her belt loop in one sharp tug. She tossed it onto Gretchen’s bedside table, landing right next to the ears she had previously taken off, a ridiculous reminder of how far gone the night already was. “Happy?”

Before Regina could answer, Janis wrapped her hands around her waist, fingers digging into the curve of her hips. In one sudden pull, she dragged Regina with her, pushing her towards the bed. The move was rough, her grip lingering on her skin, holding her firmly as she groped on her curves.

Janis shoved until the back of Regina’s legs hit the mattress, and Regina let herself fall onto it with a gasp that soon was smoothed over into a dangerous grin. Her fingers caught Janis by the collar, the other fisting in her flannel to pull her down. Their mouths crashed together, hungry and aggressive. Regina’s nails dragged across the back of Janis’s neck, scratching sharp enough to make the brunette sigh into her lips with the pleasure of the threat.

As Regina curled her fingers into Janis’s hair, she pushed her head down towards her neck, tilting her own throat back in a daring invitation. “Don’t leave any marks,” She warned with a demanding velvet tone.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Janis muttered against her skin, but she was too drunk and too turned on to fight about it. Her lips trailed along the curve of Regina’s neck, slow and lightly biting, while her hands clamped down possessively on her hips — one sliding lower to grip her thigh and squeeze it with force.

Regina arched her chest, presenting herself with a lust for control. “Don’t be shy, puppy.”

Janis jerked back just enough to glare, hand clamping around the blonde's throat. “You call me that one more time and I’ll fucking end you.”

But Regina only grinned, lifting her chin higher like she was begging for execution. “I’d love to see you try.”

Janis was willing to take her on that bet. She pushed her knee between Regina’s legs, pressing in while holding her hips until a needy moan slipped out of her. Triumph painted Janis’s expression as she leaned in, cocky. “What were you saying?”

Regina only chuckled low in her throat, sliding her hands down to her dress. She tugged both straps off her shoulders, pushing the neckline down until her breasts spilled free, bare and begging for touch in the dim light. The corset on her waist drew her silhouette to perfection as she leaned forward, smirking as she watched Janis's confidence faltering at the sight.

“Shut up and put your mouth to better use.”

Janis wouldn't argue with that.

She lowered her head and dragged her tongue flat against Regina’s nipple, hardening instantly under the contact and resulting in a sharp inhale coming from the blonde. Regina locked her legs around Janis’s waist in response, one manicured hand tangling into her dark hair and shoving her closer, demanding more. Janis let herself be forced, lips closing around the soft skin as she sucked hard enough to leave Regina gasping beneath her.

Her free hand slid up to cup the other breast, squeezing greedily, thumb rolling over the nipple until it peaked beneath her palm. Regina moaned — the kind of sound that broke through all her carefully crafted control — and the sight of it slipping from Regina's glossy lips mocked Janis’s restraint — or rather her lack of it.

She wanted to tear that smug grin off Regina's face, to make her moan again and again until it was impossible to pretend she wasn’t desperate. But in all honesty, both of them were — and the alcohol wasn't helping. Every careful line they once decided was forbidden to cross, seized to exist as the adrenaline burned through their veins and fueled their recklessness on every move.

Janis’s hand moved down, gripping the hem of Regina’s silk dress and shoving it up roughly, the fabric bunching around her hips. Her fingers ghosted up her inner thighs until it traced over Regina’s lingerie, dragging lightly over the damp spot there, both their breaths hitching at the feeling. Regina’s thighs shifted open on instinct, and Janis couldn't help thinking how pathetic it was — and yet insanely fucking hot.

She pressed harder, fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles over her clit through the thin fabric, just to watch Regina shiver. The blonde took a deep, shuddering breath, eyes narrowing, burning as if she were summoning every ounce of patience left in her. Even through the haze of alcohol clouding their senses, the warning was clear in her glare — one more second of teasing, and Regina would make her regret it.

Janis only grinned, teeth grazing the curve of her lip, before finally pushing the lace aside. Her fingers slid through Regina's wet folds, thrusting two inside her with ease.

Regina gasped, her head tilting back against the pillow as Janis’s mouth closed around her nipple again, this time catching it between her teeth, biting down hard enough to sting. A whimper broke from her lips, her body arching into the touch, nails deep into Janis’s shoulder as if to keep her there — or punish her for daring to have this kind of control.

Janis picked up a ruthless rhythm, curling her fingers inside Regina to hit her sensitive spot again and again, watching her nemesis pant and squirm beneath her. Regina grabbed her by the collar, roughly dragging Janis closer until their mouths crashed together, eagerly biting and sucking on her lower lip to relieve the burning anger and desire inside her. Her moans came out high pitched, breathy and muffled between them — driving Janis fucking mad.

“Fuck—” Regina’s voice cracked, her hand fisting in Janis’s hair as her back arched off the mattress. Janis’s name hovered on her tongue but never made it out, pride holding it hostage even as her whole body trembled, every breath dissolving into a needy whimper.

Her hips rolled down against Janis’s hand, grinding to the rhythm of her own desperation. Janis watched her, dizzy from the sight of Regina fucking herself on her fingers like she couldn’t stand the thought of stopping. Watching Regina George’s composure slipping away was making her wet and she couldn't wait to see it crumble for her.

Regina didn’t last much longer. Her chest rose sharply, struggling to catch a breath, blonde hair scattering across the pillow as her legs trembled from the rush of pleasure running through her. Janis slowed her movements, eventually dragging her fingers out of her slowly, earning a shuddering sigh from Regina.

For a moment, all Janis could do was watch her laid out on the bed — breathless, hard rosy nipples and corset still tight around her waist. Her lingerie clung to her skin, just as soaked as Janis’s fingers, and the sight alone shot heat through Janis’s body.

But it took no more than a minute for Regina to move again, starting to gather herself with quick precision. She pulled her dress back into place, covering her body to what she considered decent, then crossed the room towards the vanity. She fixed her hair, smoothed her lip gloss, made sure to erase any trace of what had just happened.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with the smell of sex, sweat, and alcohol. Janis didn’t move — didn’t even breathe properly. She was still sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand hanging uselessly at her side, her head spinning. The world felt like it had tilted a few degrees off balance, the air too thick and hot to swallow.

Regina turned towards her, expression unreadable, eyes colder now than they’d been all night. She took one step closer, leaned down until her breath ghosted over Janis’s ear.

“If anyone hears about this…” she murmured, her gaze flickering to Janis's lips for a second before she looked deep into the brunette's eyes. “You’re dead.”

And then she left.

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound too soft for how loud it felt. Janis stared at it for a long moment, the echo of Regina’s presence still hanging in the air. The music from the party hummed beyond the walls, the only proof that the world hadn’t stopped.

Then her heartbeat finally caught up to her thoughts.

What the fuck had she gotten herself into?