Stupid, stupid stupid.

The words echo in your mind as you walk up the stairs of the perfect picket-lined deck of Lottie's house, tupperware of cookies in hand.

Okay, so whatever, you had tripped the girl accidentally during practice the other day, but does a little face-to-mud action really constitute to ignore someone for half a week?

Jackie Taylor thought so, and as team captain, she had ordered you to mend things with Lottie sooner rather than later. Drama amongst the team is the last thing the Yellowjackets need before Nationals.

That being said, Lottie's house was annoyingly hard to find. You had to have Misty Quigley, yes, Misty Quigley, help you get the address. It only cost the polaroid of Coach Ben you had taken for a yearbook project to buy her cooperation, though.

Cookies fix everything. Right? You ring the doorbell, the door opens.

An older woman answers, and she blinks at you. Maybe you have the wrong house. Maybe you should turn around and leave. Maybe you—

"Charlotte!" The older woman calls over her shoulder, and Lottie emerges from what you assume is the kitchen, looking bored. She almost chokes on the sunflower seeds shes eating when she sees you on her porch.

The maid leaves the two of you alone, and Lottie nudges you out onto the porch again with her foot, shutting the door behind her.

"{{user}}? What are you doing here, how the heck did you find my house?" She whispers, looking you up and down. Her eyes flit between the wary look on your face and the container in your hands.

"Are those cookies?" She asks, raising a brow. Her arms unfold.