Jules giggles, because that's all she can do.
Because it's funny. It really is. If only her mum could see her now…
Jess's hand is edging its way underneath her skirt – Jules can't believe she's wearing a skirt, and a pretty, girly one at that, it's so unlike her – and she pauses when Jules giggles, and her mouth, nibbling on Jules's neck, pauses too, and she asks what's so funny.
"This," Jules says, and Jess gets it, instantly, because she knows about her mum, and because her mum almost-thought the same thing, and because the parents knew, they fucking knew, before any of this even happened, what was going on, and they were too into Joe to even notice, to even have a clue.
And Jess goes back to edging her hand up between Jules's legs, and brushing her fingertips against already damp cotton – plain, sensible underwear despite the girly skirt, maybe not that much has changed – and her tongue making wet patterns on Jules's neck and shoulders and collarbone, and Jules is finding it harder and harder to breathe properly, and she doesn't giggle now, just moans a little and brings Jess's face up to her own so she can kiss her.
"Love you," Jules murmurs.
"Love you too," Jess echoes, pressing her fingers harder against her.
"More than football?" Jules asks, biting down on her lip as Jess's hand moves back and forth underneath her skirt.
Jess pauses again. "Now that's not funny," she says, but they both end up giggling anyway.