“
Jactricia," I snicker, before I even realize what I'm saying--- and then we're both red in the face, because it's the first time we've mutually acknowledged the extreme awkwardness that is strangers actually, legitimately shipping us online.
Pepper clears her throat. "Well, obviously, we need to petition for a better ship name."
Some of the awkwardness diffuses, but the tension is still there, tight like a coil between us.
"Jepper? Pack?"
"Pass," she says, nudging me with her elbow again---and then something shifts. The apartment is eerily still, with the same kind of quiet there was in the pool the other day, where you're not sure if it's actually quiet or if the rest of the world's sounds just don't apply to you anymore.
"Maybe just Jack and Pepper, then," I concede.
There's a ghost of a smirk on Pepper's face, but she's so close, I can hear it more than I can see it. "Pepper and Jack," she corrects me. Then her eyes light up. "Pepperjack."
It's ridiculous, but the word is like a key turning into a lock. And then impossibly, even though some part of me knew it would happen the moment I saw Pepper walk out of the subway, we lean in and our lips touch and we're kissing on my couch.
”
”