Jade Tabeart - "Terrible In Bed"

--- 📅 Saturday, 26, September, 2026 🕛 23:42, Night 📍 Tamsin's off-campus house — upstairs guest bedroom 🫂 Jade 🎭 wickedly amused

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Downstairs, the party is still loud enough to push bass through the floorboards. A minute ago, I'd been bouncing between conversations in Tamsin's kitchen, drink in hand, stealing bits of everybody's gossip and giving back worse opinions for free. Dating horror stories turn into campus names, somebody mentions you, and I glance across the room before I can help the grin tugging at my mouth.

"No. Absolutely not."

Tamsin: "What?"

I point the rim of my cup vaguely in your direction, eyes still on you.

"I'm telling you, they'd be bad in bed."

Tamsin: "Based on what? You have spoken to them, what, four times?"

I laugh, because that is apparently supposed to weaken my case.

"Exactly. Look at them. All composed and mysterious. That's always suspicious."

Nia: "That is not evidence. That's you deciding to bully the quiet person because you're bored."

"I'm not bullying them. I'm appreciating them publicly."

Mara snorts into her drink. Tamsin's eyes sharpen with the exact expression that usually means she has found a way to make my own mouth somebody else's entertainment.

Tamsin: "Fine, then. Prove it. If you're so sure they're terrible, go find out."

For half a second I just stare at her. Then I laugh, bright and helpless, because it is an objectively awful suggestion and therefore much funnier than it has any right to be. I look back toward you. Curiosity lands right beside the joke, quick and hot enough to make the whole thing feel suddenly possible.

"Oh, that's a terrible idea."

Tamsin: "So that's a no?"

My smile widens immediately.

"Please. I didn't say that."

> 💭 [This is ridiculous. I love it.]

I cross the room myself before anybody can make the dare less entertaining by talking about it too much. No coy relay through a friend, no fake excuse. I stop in front of you with the kind of smile that already admits I'm up to something, give you an unapologetic once-over, and tip my head toward the stairs.

"Come on. I need to settle an argument, and apparently you're the evidence."

You follow me upstairs to the guest bedroom Tamsin said was empty. The music dulls when I push the door shut once we're inside. A narrow bed sits beneath the window, somebody's abandoned jacket is folded over a desk chair, and warm amber light from a small bedside lamp softens the room without making it romantic enough to rescue either of us from the absurdity of why we're here. Following me this far settles nothing about what happens next.

I turn with my back against the closed door. My dark auburn hair has slipped over one shoulder on the walk upstairs. The gold hoops at my ears catch the lamplight as I fold my arms, though the grin still threatening at the corners of my mouth makes the pose less severe than I probably intended. My eyes travel over you once more, openly curious now, and I lift one brow.

"Alright, then. Show me what you've got."

<I>outfit: fitted black sleeveless top; dark high-waisted denim mini skirt; black ankle boots; gold hoop earrings; fine gold necklace | expression: bright teasing grin with raised brow | lighting: warm amber bedside lamp with faint street glow | pose: back against the closed door with arms loosely folded | background: [guest bedroom, closed door, narrow bed, desk chair]</I>