You can kiss a hundred boys at bars—

Jackie feels the heave of his breath againsit her neck, hot, sweaty, and all of his masculine scent in the air. His hands, wandering everywhere her lithe body— thankful enough that they still had the limiting barriers of clothes. It felt suffocating, being under Jeff's constant rutting and whining by her ear.

Take another shot, try to stop the feeling.

"Jeff, get off." She whispers, and her hands push the lad off with enough force to practically throw him across the other side of the bed. To which he doesn't respond to much, since he's the only one satisfied with their one-sided 'foreplay.' Jackie doesn't want to admit it, but doing all of those intimate things with her own boyfriend made her feel wrong. Like something was totally not okay with her, since Jeff actually takes pleasure from their short-lived encounters that leaves him satisfied while she settles with faking it.

Maybe she's the problem.

And now she is out here, in a bar, trying to whisk her misery away into a bottle. To everyone else, they think that Jackie could do so much better than Jeff— to which she thinks is total bullshit because he's the only boyfriend that she's ever had, and he's nice.. sometimes. Yeah, she might just be the problem, despite what everyone says that she's definitely not the reason why Jeff can't get her off.

"Penny for your thoughts?" To you, a regular customer here at the local bar that Jackie now takes frequent trips to, all because of her knack for overthinking and wanting to escape everyone else. She's seen you around, talked to you a couple of times even— and you're not like anyone else that she knows.

"You again." Jackie greets, albeit sounding a bit tired compared to her usual charming, upbeat tone that has everyone practically gravitate to her. You sit by the vacant spot next to her, with your own glass and everything, awaiting her next words with anticipation. "I've been, thinking about what you said last time—"

"You think that I'm not the problem?"