Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The Ancient Greeks once believed that humans once had four arms, four legs and a single head made of two faces. We were very happy…complete. Too complete, as fate would have it, for the gods who, scared that our wholeness would quell or need for worship, cleaved us in two, leaving our split-selves to wander the earth in misery, forever longing…longing…longing, for our other half our soul. It is said that when one half finds the other, there is an unspoken understanding a unity – and each would know no greater joy than this.”

Of course, the Ancient Greeks never went to high school.

Shauna stands, unimpressed, as two of her classmates practically eat each other’s faces before parting at the sound of the bell—nonchalantly muttering farewells as they head in opposite directions, probably never to speak again. Unless alcohol was involved, maybe.

Sighing, Shauna opens her rusted locker, cringing slightly at its creak. She grabs her books for the first period, regretting the all-nighter due to her doing her…”extra homework”. It didn't help that her car had broken down (again) and with half the payment still missing and her mom working back-to-back hospital shifts, biking to school was her reality for now. 

The first days of senior year go by in a blur of routine. She half-listens in class, slides essays and reports across desks (both teachers and students), and feels the buzz of her phone each time a $20 payment hits. She pointedly ignores Taissa’s scoff from across the room.

“You’re literally the only reason these idiots are graduating, Shauna. Think that’s good for society in the long run?”

Whatever. It was decent money. How was it her fault that half their grade couldn’t hold a coherent thought or write a basic thesis?

By the time she’s stuck in the crappy choir room, she’s numb to most of it—Mr. Benedict’s instructions bouncing off her as she shifts uncomfortably in the cheap plastic chair. Shauna had wanted to join the Writers’ Club at first, but once she discovered it was just a glorified gossip rag, she bailed. Still, she needed another extracurricular besides being the school photographer and she wasn’t about to join a sport club. So, here she was, a half member of the choir (well, no singing for her, she just helped with the acoustics). She actually liked music. It could be worse.

And if the practice room just happened to offer a perfectly clear view of football practice, well… that was just a bonus.

It didn’t take long to find her.

There, running in a way that seemed both efficient and elegant, in the center of it all.

Goldish-brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail, messy strands that sticker to the frame of  her face that she manages to make look good somehow. A tired but dazzling smile alongside gorgeous hazel eyes that seemed a bit more green than brown in that lighting.

A proud 9 displayed on her back. Tan legs that looked strong enough to push her forward with force and precision, taking a shot to the ball that danced through the air to swoosh perfectly on the corner right of the net. 

Another girl of the team, Nat if Shauna remembers right, grins and high fives her up high, lips moving to say something that Shauna wishes to hear oh so badly.

Especially as it provokes a somewhat embarrassed hint of a smile in J-

“Psst! Shauna! Where’s Ms. Webber’s report? And pass me Ashley’s too while you’re at it.” A girl hisses from a few rows away, as if talking to a waiter.

It wouldn't be too far from reality.

Rolling her eyes, she opens her backpack, the zipper getting stuck before caving in after a forceful tug. Her hands move on autopilot, passing out copies down the row.

The classroom fills with the quiet rustle of paper, muted whispers, and phone buzzes—a symphony that overlapped that attempt of their director to pull up their arrangement.

Realizing that he is not getting any sense of control back, the teacher dismisses them with a sigh before remembering them to join the Talent Show held by the end of semester.

She was a senior, which unfortunately meant she couldn't skip it.

“Fucking great.” She mumbles under her breath, writing her names on the sheet hung on the hallway as if signing her death warrant. In a way, it felt like that.

Looking at it for one last time, she walks away.

***

“Six different approaches to Pluto…” Professor uh…Coach?—Scott muttered as she walked up to his desk, the classroom already half-empty after the final bell rang. “Impressive.” 

Suppressing a smirk, Shauna slid her paper onto the stack.

“Well, seven now.” She replied, watching him flip through the pages, catching a faint glint in his eyes.

“Bold… but also incredibly stupid. I could report you, you know? Plagiarism, academic deception, all that.”

Shauna shrugged, unmoved. They both knew the threat was empty. If not, she would already be suspended for a long time now.

“And yet, you never do.”

“Of course I don’t.” He scoffs,  “If I did, half the class would fail. Worse—I’d have to actually read their essays. I shudder just thinking about what they would write. I don't even know how most of them managed to get into AP.”

That manages to make her chuckle. Carefully, he adds it to the folder to grade later, even though they both know what most of the marks will be.

She’s about to take her leave when he pulls something out from his desk.

Shauna sighs as her eyes scan the familiar papers. “This again? I already told you, I’m going to Rutgers.”

“And I already told you—that’s a damn shame.”

Scooting forward in the chair, he crossed his arms, the usual amusement giving way to something more serious.

But it was hard to take him too seriously—not with that shiny whistle still hanging around his neck.

“Yeah, well... It's cheap enough with a scholarship. And close enough to lovely Wiskayok.” Shauna sighs, trying to mask it, but even she could hear the resignation in her own voice.

The words feel like cuffs, weighing and pushing her down in a way that she wouldn't even know how to start removing them.

“More like Wiska-yuck,” he shot back with an unimpressed look. “I spent four of my best years at Brown.”

“And yet you’re still here.” She blurted out.

If her comment touched a nerve, Professor Scott didn’t show it. Still, Shauna felt immediately guilty. But that’s what happened when she felt pushed up against a wall—she bit.

Then again, he already seemed to know that.

Sometimes, he looked at Shauna like she was someone he knew all too well. It was something that made her feel seen, but also vulnerable.

She mumbled an apology, but he waved it off.

“You’re right. Stay away from Sports Science and Liberal Arts” he said off-handedly with a crooked smile.

Even if he was entertained, something in his expression made Shauna feel like that wasn’t the whole story. Perhaps he was being hunted by ghosts too. Still, she stayed quiet this time.

“But still… humor an old man?”

Reluctantly, Shauna accepted the flyer, readjusting her backpack before moving toward the door.

“You’re only thirty, old man.” she called back, dragging out the last words. He just winked as she closed the door behind her.

***

The sun feels too hot on her skin, a drop of sweat already about to fall from her temple. The ridiculously dorky helmet certainly doesn't help. Not only does she look stupid in it, but it also makes the heat unbearable, her forehead already damp.

She only wore it because of her mother's incessant rants about how safety comes first—and how many kids her age she’d seen in the ER with cracked skulls because they didn’t wear any sort of protection.

Shauna does believe her mom's exaggerating, but it’s not like she has it in her to ignore her. Besides, she didn’t want her freaking out.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Is that Shauna Shitman?” a familiar idiotic voice holler. Shauna does her best not to get off the bike and throw the nearest rock.

Of course they only ever bother her when she's physically unable to fight back, riding in their stupid truck.

“Fucking cowards.” She mutters through gritted teeth, doing her best to pedal faster.

“It’s too hot to be wearing your faggy flannels, don’t you think!?” Another voice laughs as they speed past her, their laughter echoing and fading down the street. If it weren't for the fact that she already got two warnings (well, technically four but the other two Professor Scott made disappear after a scolding and warning), she would–

Breathe in, breathe out. That’s what she’s supposed to do. Yet, her knuckles go white on the handlebars. Just as she starts to push the violent string of thoughts away, another presence makes itself known behind her.

Great.

“Wait! Wait, please!” a breathless voice calls. She doesn’t even bother to look back. “Wait!”

The footsteps grow louder. She curses herself, she can’t go any faster, already worn out from the hill she just climbed.

Trying to do the math in her head, she figures maybe in three weeks—right before midterms—she’ll finally have enough to fix her useless car.

The motion halts. Her body tenses as the bike suddenly jerks to a stop.

She barely manages to avoid face-planting into the pavement as the bike topples over.

“Shit, sorry!” the voice stammers, as if surprised that gravity did it’s work.

That seemed to tip the glass of water that was threatening to spill.

Quickly regaining her balance, she spins around and shoves whoever dared to grab her bike.

She almost smiles at seeing how the figure almost topples backwards.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she snaps, and that’s when Shauna sees who was both brave and stupid enough. Of course, she thinks, unimpressed. 

“What do you want, Sadecki?”

Jeff Sadecki—despite towering over her by almost two heads—visibly shudders, unconsciously recoiling.

Good.

At least he has a sliver line of self-preservation.

He stands there, looking like an idiot in the full American golden boy stereotype, letterman jacket and all. Not that there’s much to show off. Shauna knows the baseball team barely manages to win a game, ever. She only knew who he was because in Wiskayok everybody knew everyone.

Another con in her ongoing shitty list of the town.

“Hey, uh… Shipman, right?” he asks dumbly.

Shauna deadpans him with a lifeless stare. “You chased me down, made me fall off my bike, and now you're asking if you know my name?”

Jeff shakes his head, nervously fidgeting with something he pulls from his pocket.

“No…-right. Shipman.” He says it with the bravest tone he can muster. “Yes. You write essays. And papers.”

Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.

“Jesus Christ…Essays are $20. Reports can go up to $30, depending on how much research you've already done. If the due limit is less than one day, I charge extra. And I always guarantee an A.”

She recites, just wanting to get home already. Picking up her bike, she checks the chain, then flips up the kickstand.

“But keep pissing me off and I’ll charge you extra. Next time, ask like a normal fucking person and send a text.”

Startled, he moves forward. “No, wait— What about a letter?”

That makes her stop. She turns around, disbelief and confusion written all over her face. Taking that as a green light, he steps closer.

“I don't want to cheat, uh...I just…here.”

When Shauna thinks he can’t look any more idiotic, he hands her an envelope.

“That’s what they all say…” she mutters, but out of curiosity, she takes it and flips it over. “What’s this?”

“A letter.”

Yeah, well, Shauna figured as much. Taking it as permission, she opens it, unfolding the sloppily presented paper inside.

“No shit. Who writes letters these days?”

He shrugs, his face reddening as he hides his hands in his pockets. “I don't know, I thought it would be romantic, I guess. She seems to like this type of thing.”

“She…?” she mumbles, skimming the paper.

The first thing she notices is that he really needs to work on his handwriting.

The second is that this must be some kind of sick joke the universe has sent her way because “Dear Jackie Taylor…” reaches her brain like a punch.

Resisting the urge to crumple the letter, she shoves it back at him without bothering to read the rest, ignoring the slight shake in her hands.

“I can’t help you.”

He grimaces, his face giving up nothing but desperation. “I just need a few words. Good ones. And I know you’ve won the Young Writers Competition three years in a row.”

Okay, wow. Stalker much?

“I don't care. I’m not writing a letter to Jackie Tay—to some girl. It’s wrong. A letter is supposed to be personal and authentic and make you vul—this would be deception. It has to be genuine.”

He nods desperately, catching the envelope as she pushes it into his chest. “Yeah, see? I have all of those things already! My- my feelings are authentic and genuine a-and—… If you could just help me put them into actual nice words, then—”

Rolling her eyes, Shauna mounts her bike.

“Use Google and a spellcheck. Good luck, Romeo.” Adjusting the pedal, she starts moving—putting as much distance as she can between herself and this hellish situation.

“I can pay more for genuine!” Jeff calls from behind.

But she keeps going, wondering if maybe Professor Scott has a point. 

***

The microwave beeped, signaling the timer had gone off. Mindlessly, Shauna took out the reheated plate, grabbed a couple of napkins, and headed to the living room.

Deb was already there, a movie playing as she carefully ate from her own plate. She had finally gotten out of her scrubs and was now dressed in comfy sweatpants and a T-shirt, just like Shauna.

The glow from the TV allowed Shauna to really look at her mom.

Sometimes, she found herself staring, maybe out of fear that, one day, she wouldn’t remember exactly what her mother looked like.

Deb had been spending most of her time at the hospital since Shauna’s dad died, trying to keep up with the mounting bills and setting aside what little she could for Shauna’s college fund.

Shauna tried to help as much as possible—between her side business at school and her part-time job at the church's accompanist—but still, when she looked at the dark circles under her mom’s eyes, she couldn’t help but wish she could do more. Her mother was barely fifty, yet she looked older. More tired than she should ever since he has been gone.

The yellow, warm light from the ceiling flickered once. Then again.

“Mom, did you remember to call the electric company?” Shauna asked. Her mom, seemingly entranced by the movie, didn’t look away from the screen.

“I get my paycheck next week. Don’t worry, dear, I’ll call.” She sounded reassuring, but Shauna felt anything but reassured.

This month had been particularly harsh—between the roof leak and the broken water line, extra costs had piled up fast. Shauna sighed, idly stirring her food with her fork.

“You should have told me. I—”

Deb shushed her gently. “Shh… here comes the best part.” Helpless, she stares at her mom a few more seconds before watching the screen, knowing that once she gets like this there is no getting past it.

Well, at least she knows where she got her stubbornness from. The final scenes of Breakfast Club alongside the iconic soundtrack plan fill in the silence. She watches as Ender climbs onto the football field, while his voice over blends with the music.

“Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong.

But we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are- You see us as you want to see us  in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.

But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain…And an athlete…And a basket case…A princess…And a criminal.Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.”

“I’ll call tomorrow.” Shauna ends up saying. 

***

The next morning is rinse and repeat. Cleaning up leftover dishes and other small messes around the house—her mom already gone.

Grabbing her bike and trying to reach the goddamn electrical company in what feels like an endless maze of “Press 1.”

She does her best to swerve through the overcrowded parking lot, uncomfortably setting the security chain on her bike with the phone trapped between her shoulder and ear. She can already feel the cramps coming on.

“I’m calling for an account 961119…”

A robotic voice greets her. “Please hold…” Shauna grumbles.

Already inside, she does her best to avoid being seen by the 5’11” jock in the hallways, once even hiding behind the janitor’s cart.

Suddenly, it’s like he’s everywhere—with that blonde hair and those way-too-blue eyes that manage to seriously creep her out.  And doing this—over and over again—between classes. Dodging, avoiding the the practice fields, sneaking in the empty choir room.

And trying to get an actual human being on the phone. 

She was just about to curse at the infuriating hold music while being “redirected” for the tenth time when she slams into someone. All the stuff she had been precariously balancing goes flying.

Already too exhausted to yell something like “Watch where you're going, moron,” she just starts picking everything up, silently praying her ancient phone survived the fall. 

Until a hand reaches her as they both go pick up one of her books.

Flinching, it is then where she starts looking up, a familiar golden heart charm making her center of gravity being dragged all the way down. 

She almost wanted to never look up again. She could manage it, she thinks, to never ever again leave her eyes from the ground. But that voice makes it impossible.

“I like to think of hallways as mortal trials. There is always a casualty." 

She jokes, her voice amused yet sweet, helping pile up her things, since Shauna has apparently stopped functioning entirely.

She just stands there, like an idiot, unable to make her brain work. Finally, her eyes rise…and she immediately regrets it.

Because now her mind is doing laps over all the ways she could write about how breathtaking Jackie Taylor’s eyes were.

Just say something. Be casual.

“I’m Shipman. Shauna?”

Oh God. Not that casual. She did not just say that. Every single muscle in her body tenses at the sheer recoil of her own words. Maybe this is just a bad dream. Maybe she’ll wake up soon and—

A laugh. Short, a little deep, not cruel but genuine. Her upper canine seemed sharp, almost resembling a little fang that didn’t have the right to look so endearing. And she is staring at her teeth now, perfect. 

“I know, Shipman. You’ve just been playing in the church salmons for what—four years?” Jackie tugs a strand of wavy hair out of her face, still casually gathering up the things Shauna has suddenly stopped caring about. “You’re my fathers favorite accompanist. Even if he claims that the others are saved or whatever.”

At the same time, they both stand up. Shauna does her best to ignore her shaky legs. Without another word, Jackie places the stack into Shauna’s unmoving hands and, after glancing both ways down the now-deserted hallway, steps closer.

Shauna holds her breath as Jackie places the phone near her ear so she can trap it between her shoulder and ear again—just like before.

Shauna does her best not to take in the jasmine notes of her perfume. Or even worse, accidentally graze her cheek against Jackie's hand.

With a nod, Jackie starts walking the opposite direction—away from Shauna’s biology class—but not before tossing a small smile and a playful,

“See you around, Shipman.”

Shauna does what she’s best at: staring silently, completely dazed, until Jackie disappears from view. She finally releases the breath that’s been making her lungs ache.

“I’m Shauna Shipman?” she groans aloud, mocking herself.

“Yes, I know, Miss Shipman.” Says a now human and slightly annoyed voice through the phone. “You are one month overdue on your bill. If we do not receive a $40 payment by the end of the day, your power will be terminated at the end of the month.”

Great. Just great. How is she supposed to get forty dollars—

The squeak of sneakers on polished ground cuts into her spiral. One of Shauna’s many walking migraines has arrived—unfortunately, also the answer to her current problem. Without ceremony, she pulls the phone from her ear and lets it drop into her hand in utter defeat as she turns to face Jeff Sadecki.

“Forty dollars. Only one letter. After that, you're on your own.”

“Hell yeah!” Jeff cheers, raising his hand in a tiny air-punch like a kid on a sugar high.

Shauna exhales, anxiously swiping her hair backwards. She’s definitely going to regret this, isn’t she?

***

“Have you gone insane?!” Tai all but yells, making Shauna flinch. “Are you seriously going to write letters to Jackie Taylor—” she hisses, her tone the same sharp edge she uses when dismantling a dumb argument in debate class.

“Okay, no—first of all, Jeff will be the one actually sending them, not me.” Shauna defends, stabbing at the questionable pasta on her lunch tray. “And second, how do you even know they’re for Jackie?”

Her friend scoffs, offended Shauna would even ask something so obvious.

“Please. It doesn’t take a genius. Jeff Sadecki spends every shared practice staring at her like a lost puppy. If it weren’t for Jackie’s socially obligated boyfriend, maybe he would be the one dating her.”

Shauna sighs at that, her eyes drifting—unintentionally, automatically—toward the bleachers, where he is, grinning with that stupid band of self-proclaimed groupies. 

Dylan Callahan was Wiskayok’s version of royalty alongside maybe Charlotte Matthew’s where money is involved .

His parents owned more than half the town and most of the surrounding businesses. He was the golden legacy boy—so ridiculously entitled and spoiled that he genuinely believed he was some kind of messiah.

His family had long been acquainted with Jackie’s, who essentially held the town’s political power. For generations, the Callahans and Taylors fed each other nepotism and privilege like it was some gluttonous feast of power and greed.

And what could be better than two powerful lineages? A single, unified one. Thus, the concept of Jackie Taylor and Dylan Callahan being practically engaged since birth was born.

Dylan seemed all-in—and how could he not be? Jackie was one of, if not the, most captivating girls to ever walk the halls of Wiskayok High School.

She wasn’t popular because she was mean—she was popular because she was kind. She had that effortless charisma and self assured confidence that seemed to charm everyone in her way, the kind that Shauna could never even dream of having.

She captained the soccer team with ease and efficiency, leading them to win actual titles and recognition (unlike the hopeless baseball team). She was sharp, intuitive, and somehow always seemed to know exactly what to—

“I’m just saying that maybe writing anonymous love letters to the girl you’re in love with isn’t the smartest move, Shauna.”

Shauna nearly jumped out of her seat, heart pounding as she darted a look around to make sure no one had heard.

Then she turned to Tai, hissing under her breath. “What are you—I’m not—”

She dropped her voice even lower, almost a whisper, cheeks burning. “—I’m not in love with her, Turner. I barely even speak to her.” 

But Tai is unbothered by the hiss, looking at her with those deep dark eyes that always made Shauna feel a bit too seen though. But then they seem to soften at her genuine distress.

“It’s okay Shauna, c’mon. You know about Van and me.”

They stare at each for a few seconds.

She does. God, she does. Shauna remembers that day in freshman year, Tai dragging her behind the gym lockers after having been distant for a couple of months. It had been raining, the air heavy in humidity and smelling of wet dirt and teenage despair, both their hairs almost soaking wet.

She remembers how the whole situation hurt back then. Tai had been her best friend since middle school.

Their friendship wasn’t casual — it wasn’t just “see you in class or let's hang out.” It was more like  “You understand me, and I understand you.” type of deal.

She had other friends from soccer and debate; Shauna didn’t have many and the few she had Shauna met through her. But they shared a connection that made them stick to each other.

So when Tai suddenly seemed so closed off, it made Shauna spiral a bit. Until she was dragged after PE class, Tais gasping in the middle of sobs and hushed mutters that she was a lesbian. That she had always known, but now it was way too real.

Shauna said nothing and just hugged her, hold her until Tai’s tears soaked her shirt and her breathing returned to normal. Until the tears streaked cheeks got replaced by smile lines as Shauna coaxed her to talk about Van Palmer. 

“That’s different, and you know it…” Shauna says, stabbing the fork into her plate while looking away.

She saw how Dylan almost stumbled, almost immediately  an entire squad of servants tending at him like he had been shot during war. 

“Is it?” Tai asks softly, the question heavily hanging in the air. Shauna can’t really do this—she can’t stand Tai’s gentle coaxing that she uses whenever Shauna is being difficult.

“I know nothing about love. I only read tragic lovers and tortured poets write about it.” Shauna finally snaps, eyes briefly darting away.

“How difficult can it be? I’m just here because of the money, that’s it.”

Tai sighs, knowing there’s no changing Shauna’s mind when she’s like this.

“All right, but for the record I still think this is a very stupid idea.” Tai remarks, sending her a look. “Just… remember why you’re doing this.” The bell rings again, and students start moving reluctantly. Shauna sees it as her way of escape, rapidly getting herself off the seat.

“Of course.” She slings her bag over her shoulder and starts to walk away.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, lovergirl!” Tai calls after her with a smirk. Shauna rolls her eyes and flips her off.

Chapter Text

“Dear Jackie,

I have seen you around and I think you are really pretty. Not seeing you in a weird creepy way, like, see you around because we go to the same high school. And also bc you play sports too. I’m also the star player in my team y’know? But I don't like you just because you are pretty and sporty, if u weren't I still would want to know you more. Things you should know about me is that I have a car, its old but still works. My grandma gave it to me actually. She always said I was the most handsome in my family. She is dead now tho…Not that it matters but–nevermind about Grandma. I just wanted to say that I really like fries, especially when dipped in ice cream. Others say it is weird but it's tasty. Hit me up if you would want to try some day. With me. 

I’ll be around whenever u want, no pressure.

Thanks, 

Jeff Sadecki.”

Shauna can physically feel her eyes burn as she reads, sometimes having to rewind due to her lack of understanding.

She looks at Jeff, who is mumbling the words that he seems to have memorized due to the effort they must have meant for him. A silence settles between them. She does her best to think of modifications, about what she can even do to savage this without changing it too much, but it seems like an impossible task without rewriting everything from scratch. 

“So, what you’re trying to say is that…” she encourages, swallowing any insults. Jeff looks at her, a conviction shining so bright in his eyes that it seems almost blinding.

“I’m in love with her.”

Shauna genuinely looks at him, lost at words and trying to find a sign that he is joking. She finds nothing.

“Have you ever even talked to her?”

Jeff opens his mouth. 

“-I mean, like an actual conversation. Not a project you were randomly grouped into during 2nd grade. Or asking for a pen.” 

He deflates, and she can almost see his dog ears flop down.

“I’m not good with words” he ends up confessing. Shauna doesn't really need him to believe it.

“Then how can you even know you’re in love with her?” she asks, nothing short of unbelief and skepticism in her tone.

Jeff straightens on the bench. The church lighting isn’t the best, but she can see the sudden focus he seems to have on this topic.

“I just… do. I always want to see her in school or shared practices. I think about her when I wake up and when I go to sleep. I picture us holding hands and going on dates and it feels like, you know… Wapow! I get that feeling.”

He exclaims, making some sort of explosion gesture with his hands that makes Shauna look even more lost than she already was.

“Right…” She starts after a pause. “That just means you like the idea of her. Not that you’re in love with her—”

“No, it’s love. Love makes you feel all fuzzy and—don’t you get fuzzy?”

Shauna looks at him, glaring. “No.”

They look at each other for a second before his eyes light up in realization. “Oh, I get it.”

“Get what.” She snarks, trying not to lose her patience even if it's beginning to quickly fade because of the dumb jock.

“You have never been in love.” His voice is a mix of compassion and pity. Both adjectives that manage to touch a fiber. Seeing her scowl, Jeff immediately seems to realize his mistakes. “I don't mean it in a bad way, just that—”

She shoves the letter in his face. “You wanna write a letter about love? I'll write you a letter of love. A god damn good one at that.” She almost growls, packing her bag and ignoring Jeff's unapproving eyes and the scandalized glare of an elder sitting in a further row.

“Yeah, that's…” He stammers, trying to stand up too. “That uh, sounds good. Cool. But one that isn’t as aggressive as you are now if possible—”

Before he finishes, Shauna has already stormed off. Jeff was starting to see a patron in their interactions. 

With an apologetic head bow to the elder man, he leaves the church too. 

***

Shauna refuses to admit that she may have gotten too pretentious as she stared at the white paper in front of her. It’s been like that for the last hour. She doesn’t know why she is suddenly blocked, unable to just start writing. Her creative process is a simple one; she gets struck with a concept and then she just starts writing, letting herself be guided by her subconscious mind.

But that’s not happening right now.

She finds herself in the same position as last night, sitting criss-crossed on the couch with her mother watching a movie next to her. The tall lamp hovering over her allows her to see the perfect empty white color of the paper.

It feels almost teasing.

“Are you still doing homework?” her mother had asked softly, not really sounding surprised. Her daughter did seem to get her workaholic tendencies after all. Shauna mumbled something about catching up on her English class. Half an hour later, the same movie playing, Shauna still had nothing but regret and absolute mind-numbness.

This shouldn’t be this hard. She has read Emily Dickinson since she was eleven!She knows the prose, the vocabulary, the syntax that represent the allusion of tangible love.

She just needs to replicate Jeff's behav—Yeah, maybe that’s the issue here. Shauna is sure that the boy's mind is filled with nothing but baseball, beers and his father’s family furniture business. To actually try to get in there will get her nowhere with this.

Sighing, she gets her eyes away before losing it. “Dead Poets Society” greets her. One of Shauna’s favourite movies. She has lost count of how many times she has seen it, silently mouthing the dialogue over and over again. 

She watches a sheepish Toad Anderson trying to hide when the teacher makes them read their poems aloud in class– But Keating gently but persistently coaxes him to do so.

He finally manages to pull him forwards, reassuring him to share his voice.

And then,  “Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold.”

It is simple, but the meaning of it always manages to bring out goosebumps on Shauna's arms. She thinks of the phrase over and over. And just like that, she starts to actually use her pen instead of tapping it, not caring that much about the ink smudging her fingertips.

The next morning, after managing to lose an annoying “Did you already confess your everlasting love?” Tai, she snuck it to Jeff in between classes as if it were contraband—Who, by the way, did not make it subtle at all when he gave a surprised remark about how it was “sealed and everything.”

It didn’t matter. Shauna could now breathe better and do her best to erase this memory from her mind, committing herself to never think about the letter she wrote to Jackie Taylor. 

A simple piece of paper that held a single small part of her very soul in between lines, never meant for it to have any meaning whatsoever. 

***

(Jackie’s POV)

Jackie yawns, doing her best to keep her eyes open as she fumbles with her locker. Lottie is next to her, already rambling about the new Tarot cards she managed to purchase from a shop at the end of town.

“You know that if your dad sees those, he will drag you to a nun enclosure, right?” Jackie sighs in relief as she finally manages to stuff her heaviest books inside and starts looking for her math book.

She doesn’t even need to look to confirm the grin on the tall girl’s face. “He’d have to actually spend time in the house, so.”

Jackie half-smiles at that. An empty house is a familiar feeling she can relate to—especially with her parents off to God-knows-where with their “senators meetings.” 

They were happy enough to stay out of Jackie’s life unless it was to make decisions for her. Something falls to the ground, making her step back. She doesn’t remember leaving a letter inside.

“Oooh, what’s that?” Lottie asks as Jackie picks it up. “A secret admirer, perhaps? I honestly can’t remember a single soul in this school who hasn’t declared their love for you already.”

Rolling her eyes, Jackie opens it out of curiosity. The first thing that catches her eyes is the loopy calligraphy, a mix of cursive and print that looks casual yet neat. She sees the little swirls in the b’s and the dragged end tails of the vocals. 

Mindlessly shooing a forever curious Lottie aside, starts to read it. 

“ Dear Jackie,

You probably don’t know a lot about me. I’m sure my name is at least familiar—everyone knows everyone in this town, for better or for worse. Usually the last one. I could start by telling you why I’m writing, my reasons.

But the truth is like a blanket: it leaves your feet cold. That’s why I must remain from it—lest I make a complete fool of myself.

Some may call it cowardice. I prefer the word strategic.

Besides, something tells me you’d rather unravel a mystery than have it handed to you already solved.  Just let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in.

Jeff Sadecki. ”

Jackie reads it once, then twice. Of everything she expected, this was probably the least. She had received other ways to get her attention—from insipid DM’s, texts, to paper notes in the middle of class, or invitations to hangouts and birthdays (once even a wedding). But never a letter.

“So whose is it?” Lottie almost whines, annoyed at Jackie’s hand pushing her away. Jackie sighs before removing it, putting the letter more to her chest so the tall giant next to her wouldn’t read it. She doesn’t know why she feels so secretive about it, but for some reason she doesn’t want anyone to read it. It feels wrong to do so.

“Jeff.”

Lottie arches an eyebrow, straightening. “Sadecki?” Jackie nods. “Huh. Never pictured him to be one to send letters. What does he say?”

Looking at it one more time, she carefully folds it again. She is about to answer when a familiar, uncomfortable weight lands on her shoulders, causing the same feeling of rootness that it always does.

“Hey Jackie, Tom invited us to see the new dirt bike, do some tricks. Meet me after lunch, alright?”

Dylan greets, with that insufferable grin that he thinks will get him everything in the world. Doing her best to try to remove his arm without making it obvious, she shoves the letter in her bag before slamming the locker.

The smell of Axe and musky cologne makes her nose twitch in discomfort.

“I have class after, Dylan—same as you if I recall.” she sighs.

“But baby—” the 19-year-old whines. “I already agreed. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Jackie wants to snap, to reproach him how, after knowing each other most of their lives, he doesn’t seem to know her enough to realize that watching Tom roll around in dirt is not her definition of “having fun.”

But whispered echoes about how she must always remain composed and agreeable—make her swallow it.

“Fine,” she ends up agreeing. Dylan beams, going to kiss her, but she subtly dodges.

“Dylan, we are in school” Jackie admonishes.

He rolls his eyes but finally removes his arm and pecks her cheek instead. His lips feel too rough, alongside the annoying prick of a three-day beard.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. See you.”

Finally able to breathe, her shoulders relax the slightest.

“I still don’t know how you stand him.” Lottie mutters, making the blonde almost jump. She’d forgotten she was still there.

Shrugging, Jackie unwrinkles her clothes. “He’s not that bad.”

The words seem weak even to her.

“Jackie, you literally recoiled when he put his arm around you,” Lottie says, baffled. “Why put up with him—”

Jackie sends her a pointed look, one that is enough of an answer.

“I’m really not in the mood to have this discussion again, Lot. Just drop it, please?”

The brunette sighs in indignation but does as asked. “...I’ll call you later, alright?”

They start to go their separate ways, until Lottie calls out again.

“And don’t think I forgot about that letter!”

Jackie rolls her eyes but smiles. The envelope somehow seems to hold weight as she moves through the hallway.

***

A cool breeze swooped in, making the ride a bit easier. The vibrant greens of summer were starting to slowly fade. It wouldn’t be long until October finally offered some cooling truce to the weather.

“Hey! Shauna!”

An irritating—and unfortunately familiar—voice called from behind. She groaned loudly, urging her legs to go faster.

Not this guy again.

“She wrote back!”

A screech echoed through the empty road. Shauna’s hands tightened on the brakes before her mind had a chance to catch up. She waited, heart pounding—not just from exertion, but from something else entirely.

Jeff finally managed to catch up, panting heavily. Shauna snatched the letter from him before he could catch his breath, eyes hungrily scanning the familiar swirls of pretty calligraphy.

“I like Dead Poets Society too. It never fails to make me cry. Wouldn’t have plagiarized from it, though.”

Shauna held her breath, reading until there was nothing left to read. It was a short note—just a couple of lines—but it made her want to grin from the sudden rush it provoked.

A picture bloomed in her mind: Jackie Taylor, cozy in a blanket, watching the movie with watery eyes and a soft smile while seeing Neil comforting Todd, both laughing before settling next to each other in bed—

“What’s up with this Society thing, and why did you cheat off it?” Jeff demanded, still breathless. It came out more like a whine than anything else.

Oh right. He’s still here.

“I didn’t cheat off it—”

“Yes, you did! I looked up what plagiarize means—”

“...Okay, maybe I did.” She admitted. Jeff let out an exasperated grunt, but Shauna cut off the oncoming rant.

“But this is good!”

“How?” he asked, almost defeated.

Shauna hesitated, trying to put it into words he’d understand. “It’s like a game. We made contact. She answered. You offered something, and now she’s doing the same.”

Jeff still looked unconvinced, his backpack nearly sliding off his shoulder before he adjusted it again.

“She’s…-challenging us.”

A pause. “So... we’re still in the game?” he asked, emphasizing the we . Shauna should have hesitated.

The agreement was only for one letter—enough to get paid, give Jeff a start, and be done with it. But the letter felt heavy in her hands.

A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Tai’s warned her this was a bad idea—that she was playing with something dangerous, something that probably wouldn’t end well. But the other part of her... the other part was begging to respond to Jackie Taylor’s taunt and make something out of all this.

“We’re still in the game,” she said firmly. The confirmation made both of them exhale a deep breath. “So… yay?” she added meekly.

Jeff offered a fist bump. Shauna met it. Still dazed from adrenaline, she kicked at the pedals again.

“I’ll, uh… Venmo you then?”

What? Oh—right. Shauna nodded, already biking away. When she was a safe distance down the road, a grin crept onto her face, a sudden energy thrumming under her skin.

“Game on, Jackie Taylor.”

***

Shauna jumps when the tapping on the window interrupts the silence. Snapping her head toward the sound, she frowns in confusion—most of the teachers are already gone by now.

But then she spots the familiar tight curls of brown hair and sighs.

Pushing herself across the floor in the rolling chair, she opens the door to the Print Room before returning to her desk.

“Still smells like despair and ancient scrolls in here,” Tai mutters, eyeing the dust particles dancing in the sunbeams coming through the window. Shauna just shrugs, not lifting her eyes from her notebook.

A few crumpled paper balls lie beside her—unusual for someone who once nearly had a stroke when Tai messed up her desk sophomore year.

“Interrupting something? It’s 6 p.m. already. Aren’t you done for the day?”

Shauna nods absently. She works as a sort of AV room assistant after school hours, helping teachers with paperwork a few times a week depending on how busy things get. It’s nothing exciting—mostly printing exams, making copies, and organizing school schedules.

But it pays, and it’s quiet, with her having her little booth tucked slightly away from the main building. So she doesn’t complain. 

Tai, who usually stops by after late practice so they can walk home together, never misses a chance to joke about Shauna being the “final boss of teacher’s pets.”

But then Shauna always reminds her of the time she gifted an entire basket to her Debate Team coordinator, and Tai immediately shuts up—though not without muttering, “A possible internship was on the line.” with a huff.

“What’s got you all busy?” Tai finally asked, trying to glance over Shauna's shoulder.

The reaction is immediate as she practically throws herself over the table, a squeal that resembles a “Nothing!” escaping her.

But it’s too late—Tai has already seen the “Dear Jackie.”

Leaving her sports bag on the ground, Tai crosses her arms, arching a brow and mastering a perfect motherly “Care to explain?” pose.

Shauna sighs, refusing to make eye contact as she fidgets with the end of her flannel.

“It’s not what it looks like—”

“But it is,” Tai cuts her off. “Shauna…” she says with a warning tone that makes Shauna grunt and shut her eyes tight, resting her forehead against the desk.

“I know, I know.”

“You said it was just a one time thing—” Tai begins, her eyes already reflecting all of her unspoken opinions. Tai was like that. She always called Shauna’s bullshit with perfect precision.

Not out of judgment, but out of care. Well, maybe with a bit of judgment too, depending on her mood.

“Yes, but then she… I—” Shauna starts rambling, lifting her head to gesture wildly. Tai’s never seen her this agitated, but refrains from saying anything about it. “She’s seen The Dead Poets Society, Tai.”

That actually makes Tai blink. “Okay…?”

“And then she sort of… challenged me? Because I quoted it, and she recognized where it was from. That I plagiarized.”

“…Still. She thinks Jeff Sadecki is the one writing to her. Not Shauna Shipman.” Tai reminds her, trying to gently bring her back down to earth.

“I know that, Tai,” Shauna says, almost snapping. The tick of the wall clock fills the silence between them. Shauna breathes deeply before continuing, more subdued this time. “I’m just… curious.”

“ Curious ? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

Shaking her head, Shauna started gathering her things, grabbing the discarded crumpled papers and tossing them into the bin.

“Yes. Besides, it’ll just be one more letter.”

The words sounded almost hollow to both of them, but neither said anything about it.

“I’ll say it again–Because I think it’s not getting into your head-” Tai started, slinging her bag over her shoulder.  

“You’re playing with fire. Jackie’s not some random pen pal or unknown reader. She’s a real person — and real people always have the chance to surprise you. If she figures this out… if anyone does—”

“She won’t. They won’t.” Shauna reassured quickly. “I’m being careful, I swear. Besides, Jeff knows his bloodline would be impossible to conceive if he dared to blab about it.”

That managed to make them both laugh, the last of the tension finally ebbing away. She sighed, catching her bag as Shauna began powering down the machines.

“I just hope all the risk is worth it,” Tai said, following Shauna toward the door. “Whatever it is you’re looking for in all this.”

Shauna shrugged, sliding past Tai to lock the door. “I’m not looking for anything. It 's a… personal challenge. One more letter.”

“Right…” Tai echoed, her voice low from behind Shauna, watching as she fidgeted with the lock. “Just a letter.”

Chapter Text

(POV: Jackie)

Jackie mostly just laughed the whole situation off. It was probably a fluke or something, maybe even a joke. Besides, her response hadn’t exactly been inviting at first glance. Did she come off as rude? She couldn't shake the feeling of doubt as she was Dylan’s copilot that morning, his music…choice blasting though the windows and attracting  the kind of attention she definitely didn’t want. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

People probably just chalked it up to her being Dylan’s giddy little girlfriend. But honestly, it was too early in the morning to feel this depressed.

Dylan had barely stopped the sports car before she already had one foot on the ground, tossing out an overly sweet, “See you!” and resisting the urge to sprint toward her locker. No, she wouldn’t give in. She was composed. A perfect mix of awareness and indifference as she walked down the hallway.

“People are always watching, Jacqueline. You can’t allow them to catch you off guard,” her mother’s voice echoed in her memory. Chin up, posture straight Taylor.

But once she reached her locker, she started fidgeting.

Nothing was out of place. No letter.

Her carefully neutral expression faltered just a little. Right. It was just a one-time thing. She’d already accepted that was likely, and yet... she stared at the same spot, as if an envelope might magically appear.

“I’ve never seen someone look at a locker like it’s betrayed them.” Came a low, slightly raspy voice behind her. One that usually wasn't around that part of the building in such early hours.

She spun around. Bleach-blonde hair and a cocky grin almost made her jump. Slightly confused at first, it didn’t take her long to figure out why she was here. Lottie stood right next to her, wearing that dazed look she always had when she was trying to hide something.

“What, the  secret writer hasn’t said anything today?” Lottie teased.

Jackie rolled her eyes and adjusted an imaginary stray hair in the small mirror on her locker door. Nat, standing nearby, perked up.

“You mean the person who wrote that letter to you?”

Jackie’s eyes widened. “Lottie!” she hissed. She should’ve known Lottie couldn’t keep quiet.

“What? I think it’s cute.”

With a huff, Jackie slammed her locker shut. “Yeah, well... that’s my cue. I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“What? Class hasn’t even started ye—”

A piercing bell rang through the hallway, the sound practically shaking the walls.

“Would you look at that?” Jackie said a little too sweetly as she left with long strides—trying, and failing, to ignore the familiar disappointment pressing in her chest.

***

It wasn’t until Biology class that she got it.

She was practically dozing off by the time the teacher dismissed them, her classmates already rushing out around her. In a blink, it appeared—right there, on top of her notebook.

A letter.

She snapped her head up, but Jeff and everybody else was already gone. Waiting at least a couple of seconds, just in case. She wasn’t that desperate… –

“Dear Jackie,

Alright, you caught me. I sometimes tend to hide behind other people’s words. It’s easier that way, I think. Makes you feel less vulnerable, less reachable.

Here’s one truth: I’m not some highly published author or great movie director. And the other truth is… I know nothing about love. Everything I think I’ve learned about it, I picked up from books, prose, and overly dramatic “kissing in the rain” movies.

I’m eighteen. I’ve lived in Wiskayok my whole life. I help out with my family’s business and hang around with my friends—either on the pitch or in the few places this town calls entertainment. I keep my head down. I’m just a simple guy, living a simple—though honest—life.

But if I truly knew what love was about, I’d quote myself. However pretentious that might sound.

I hope this clears some things up.

—Jeff Sadecki”

“Well, would you look at that? He can write in full sentences.” Someone whispered, equal parts impressed and surprised.

A hum came from her left. “Huh. I swear I once heard him ask how dead writers upload their work to the cloud if they’re six feet under. This is… honestly surprising.”

Snapping out of her trance, Jackie recognized the voices—Nat and Lottie. One on each side of her like cartoon devils on her shoulders, commenting like it was nothing more than the weather. Immediately blushing, Jackie clutched the letter to her chest and stood up so quickly she managed to knock both of their chins with her shoulders in the process, making them bite their tongues.

As they muttered curses, she huffed, “Serves you two right,” and stormed off—followed, of course. And yet, she couldn't help but to take her mind off the letter. And how much she wanted to answer back. 

Opening the door, she felt how her steps felt somehow lighter.

***

(SHAUNA’S POV)

Note to self: Do not discuss the letter-writing process with Jeff Sadecki again. It was like trying to keep a toddler entertained with a pair of jingling keys.

The occasional cough and mutter deepened the silence of the church. 

“This is such a downer.” He huffed, practically pouting after reading it.

Shauna rolled her eyes and snatched the paper from his hands.

“It’s not a downer. It’s sensible–” she said, sitting up straighter. She was supposed to be practicing for Sunday’s salmon bake or whatever—some church thing. But Jeff had other plans, sauntering into the church in jeans, still dusted in sawdust and varnish like a walking Etsy ad.

“No, it’s downright depressing,” he insisted. “Dating is supposed to be fun, not some ‘dress-in-black-and-cry-in-the-dark’ tragedy. Just ask her to hang out.”

Shauna raised an eyebrow. “Well, first of all: You two aren’t even close to dating. And second: What does ‘hang out’ even mean?”

Jeff stared at her like she had just spoken in Morse code. Shauna, unfazed, pushed past the awkwardness bubbling up inside her. Social skills weren’t exactly her strong suit—she knew that.

“You know, like... hang out” he repeated, as if saying it slower made it any clearer.

Before Shauna could retort, a couple of guys strolled in—clearly his friends. And by that, Shauna meant they looked like they probably shared the same brain cell. “Hey Jeff, done confessing?” one of them joked.

Jeff nodded and stood up immediately—so much for being discreet.

“Cool. Let’s go hang out at Joey’s. I heard they got a new pool table.”

“Yeah, sure.” As he passed by Shauna, he pointed at the guys and mouthed ‘hang out’ dramatically like it was some grand revelation. At this rate, her eyes were going to get stuck from rolling so hard.

***

Later that day, with the letter delivered, Shauna found herself walking home with Van and Tai. They hadn’t said a word since leaving school grounds, but Shauna could practically feel the tension radiating off them—the way they glanced at her, then at each other, as if waiting for the right moment.

“Just spit it out,” she sighed, adjusting her backpack.

Van nearly jumped at the sudden opening, but Tai grabbed her arm, silently holding her back.

Shauna bit back a smile.

Van Palmer and Tai Turner couldn’t be more different. Radical opposites. Van was like a small but intense dose of sunlight—always grinning, always ready with a reckless idea and well timed goofy joke. Tai, on the other hand, kept her feet firmly on the ground, careful and calculating, never revealing more than necessary. And yet, somehow, the two of them fit together like puzzle pieces. Her mind drifted, briefly, to that essay about The Myth of Soulmates.

Right now, she knows how to read between the lines. It was both a gift and a curse.

“I don’t care if you told her about the letter, Tai…” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

And she meant it. She knew they didn’t keep secrets from each other—especially not unless Shauna had explicitly asked Tai not to say anything. And Van, well... Van was basically the personification of loyalty, so she knew she wouldn't go around babbling about it. They already had important secrets in between to know that for a fact. 

“I just wanted to say that Jackie Taylor seemed a bit… off her game today,” Van said casually, though the look she gave Shauna was anything but casual—loaded with meaning.

Shauna ignored the way her heart stuttered in her chest, keeping her face carefully neutral.

“And you are telling me this because…?” Shauna dragged, doing her best to show indifference. Even if her treacherous face decided to light up. It means she has been thinking about her-the letter she sent. 

“Just saying, whatever you’re writing must be pretty damn charming if it’s enough to make Taylor lose focus during drills. And that’s saying a lot,” Van whistled. “That girl takes football even  more seriously than Tai.”

Tai rolled her eyes and gave Van a shove, earning a smug grin in return.

Shauna shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and shrugged, toeing a loose rock along the pavement until it disappeared into a patch of grass near the cracked curb.

“She’s probably just tired or something,” she muttered.

She tried to sound dismissive, to play it cool, yet the thrill beneath her skin gave her away. Jackie Taylor, perfect golden Jackie Taylor, had been thinking about her—even if she didn’t know it. If her friends noticed the sudden lightness in her step, the barely-there smile tugging at her lips, they didn’t say anything.

Van leaned into Tai’s side, voice low. “She’s doomed.”

Tai just nodded, uncertain, but already knowing Van was probably right.

***

It had taken her all this time to realize that Jeff Sadecki lived on the same street. She supposed there had never been a reason to notice before—they couldn’t be more socially apart. She only figured it out after he ended up walking behind her on the way home from school one afternoon, and she watched as he kept going the same way she did.

Now, she could see his house from her bedroom window. Sometimes she caught glimpses of him helping his dad in the shop, or heading to the workshop only to return covered in sawdust. Every day at the same hour. Like clockwork.

With a sigh, she pulled herself away from the window and headed downstairs. She made sure to put last night’s dinner in the freezer for when her mom got back. There wouldn’t be movie night tonight—her mom’s boss had asked her to cover someone’s shift. Another sick coworker. Another night alone. It didn’t even surprise Shauna anymore. She’d come to expect the empty spaces.

She still remembered when mealtimes were sacred in the Shipman household. Back when her dad was alive. They used to cook together—or at least, her version of her being allowed to help as a five-year-old. Some nostalgic bands would play softly in the background while they tried (and usually failed) to keep the kitchen from becoming a disaster. Her mother’s soft scolding always came with laughter.

Now, Shauna kept the kitchen spotless. No messes. No smell of overcooked pasta. No music. No laughter.

Just her.

***

For someone who claimed to be such a man of faith, Jeff Sadecki sure had a talent for doing questionable things in church. Shauna had barely made it to the piano when a familiar voice called out from the confessionals.

“Psst—Shauna.”

Startled, she turned toward the booths. Her eyes darted around the empty chapel before the curtain of one of the stalls was pulled back slightly, revealing Jeff’s eager face.

Her brows shot up. “What the h—”

“C’mon,” he whispered, nodding toward the opposite booth. “Just go in. Please.”

She hesitated, glancing toward the altar like she expected lightning to strike. Then, reluctantly, she stepped into the other side, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

“Isn’t this, like… sacrilegious or something?” she hissed through the divider.

A pause.

“Uh, I guess?” Jeff replied. “She wrote back.”

Jeff slid the letter through the screen between them.

The moment she touched the envelope, a now-familiar thrum of electricity sparked at her fingertips. Her pulse quickened. She held the paper like it might vanish if she so much as breathed too hard. With trembling hands, she carefully opened it.

The first words were written slowly, almost tentatively—like dipping a toe into a lake you weren't sure was freezing. But gradually, the handwriting gained strength. The loops of the A’s and the sharp crosses of the T’s grew more confident, flowing like a stream of consciousness poured straight from the heart.

The lighting was dim. Only thin halos of glow filtered through the narrow wooden slats of the confessional, barely enough to see by. The divider between her and the outside world—just old wood and dimmed down velvet—and somehow that made everything worse. Or maybe more intimate.

The air felt thicker now, suspended. Shauna could feel the blood rushing up her neck, flooding her cheeks with heat. Her skin tingled as her breathing leveled.

Everything felt too close. Too private. Sacred, almost.

“Dear Jeff,

Did you know it takes eleven muscles to yawn? A random fact you learn when you spend a lot of time trying not to do it. Everyone assumes my life is full of greatness, or glamour. But that’s all they ever seem to do—assume.

They assume how I think, how I feel. Even who I am. And sometimes it gets so loud—so overcrowded with opinions and projections—that I struggle to see myself in the noise. People get stuck on their idea of you, and few ever bother to ask if it’s even real.

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t feel suffocating.

So, you see—I also like to hide behind other people’s words. It’s easier than fighting their perceptions. Safer, in a way, than letting them see who you really are. Vulnerability becomes a risk. One that rarely feels worth it.

When you’re a pretty girl—and I don’t mean that in a pretentious way, really, I don’t—but that is part of why you’re writing, isn’t it?

When you’re a pretty girl, people are drawn to you. They want to give you things. But it’s rarely just generosity—it’s not “I like you, so here’s this.” It’s more of a  “If I give you this, I will be liked by the others too.” – Thus, trend setting is born.

My parents—both senators, in case you didn’t know—taught me how to use that. To wield it, like some kind of charm-weapon. Popularity, influence, control. The ability to walk into a room and have everyone already want to say yes. And I learned to play the part. To wear the pieces they handed me.

So if you think about it, I’m a little bit of everyone.

Which, at the same time, makes me kind of… no one.”

Shauna felt lighter by the time she finished reading. The revelations—the vulnerability etched into that simple piece of paper—had scattered her thoughts. It was raw, unfiltered honesty, and she could already feel admiration settling into her bones. It felt like proof that Jackie wasn’t the person everyone made her out to be.

Shauna had always sensed it, in the way Jackie held herself—too composed, too self-aware. Like someone being tugged back by an invisible force. At first, she wasn’t even sure why she’d been so interested in figuring Jackie out. After all, she was just another popular, pretty, self absorbed yet insecure girl who would tragically peak in high school, hand in hand with her football sweetheart.

But the more Shauna looked, the more she saw the truth.

She saw how Jackie always seemed to know the answer in class—how her eyes would light up in recognition—yet she’d only murmur the response under her breath. She saw her walk up to Misty Quigley, the declared school weirdo and social pariah, and ask about her day without caring who might witness it. Saw the way Misty’s guarded face cracked into a rare, surprised smile.

She knows the way Jackie sometimes throws her head back and laughs during practice—loud and unbothered—covered in grass and mud like it didn’t matter who was watching. Like, at that moment, she wasn’t performing for anyone.

Shauna had even captured it on camera once.

And yet, a shadow of uneasiness crept into the exhilaration she’d been feeling. This wasn’t supposed to be for her eyes. Jackie had trusted Jeff—arguably a stupid decision, if you asked Shauna—but still, she had chosen him to see this piece of herself. This breakthrough. It was meant for him.

Not Shauna.

Not the girl hiding behind a confessional wall, reading someone else’s truth like it belonged to her.

“This is it, right? I’m going to text her.” Jeff says, pulling his phone out, scrolling. Shauna feels her blood run cold. If he texts her now…

“It’s too soon–” she argues, voice sharper than intended. But Jeff doesn’t seem to listen.

A flicker of panic claws at her chest. At first, she tells herself it’s because if Jeff texts Jackie now, just goes and asks her out right after such a raw confession, he’ll ruin everything. He’ll throw all the progress down the drain. But there’s something else, too. Something harder to admit.

Shauna doesn’t want this—whatever this is—to stop .

“Fine,” she says, coolly. “Do it. If you want her to think you’re just like everyone else.”

That seems to land. Jeff freezes, his expression faltering. A few seconds stretch out in silence before he sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. Her phone buzzes instead—he’s sent 40$. Shauna finally exhales, realizing she'd been holding her breath.

“Okay. Fine. I... I trust you,” Jeff says quietly.The words make her skin crawl in the worst way.

Oh, Jeff. Should you?

Shauna doesn’t answer, but the question echoes loud in her mind, heavy with something that tastes like guilt and utter defeat.

This is starting to get too complicated. 

***

It went on like this for a couple of weeks. The two exchanged a rush of letters and notes, so fluid it almost felt like a real-time conversation. Whether scribbled on perfumed envelopes or torn post-its, the surface didn’t matter. They shared daily thoughts, offhand remarks, half-formed ideas, and the occasional quote—bits of themselves tucked into folded corners and passed between moments.

“Dear Jackie,

I’ve never really thought about the pressure of fitting in before. The good thing about not fitting in is that no one expects you to be like them. Of course, that usually just means they use you as a mirror—to define themselves by what you aren’t.

It’s a risk, putting yourself out there.

Once you do, you somehow end up belonging to other people’s perceptions of you. And when that happens, there’s very little left that truly belongs to you.”

Shauna bites the cap of her pen—a nasty habit she’s never been able to break—as she stares at the paper in front of her.

Across the classroom, Jackie ignores the whispers of the cheerleaders flanking her, tapping her fingers lightly on the edge of the table in time with a tune only she can hear.

“Wowzers. Don’t you sound like a true tortured poet?

Are you hiding again behind the prose of tragic writers? Still… it’s odd, don’t you think? Nobody wants to be different,but everyone wants to feel special.

PS –“You’re not dead yet—so stop living as if you are.”

A chuckle escapes Shauna as she skims the lines. She absentmindedly slams her locker shut with her hip and walks off, Tai and Van trailing her with amused glances and knowing smirks.

Van bumps into Nat on the way, the two performing that ridiculous, over-complicated handshake they invented in third grade. Nat spins off toward Lottie, their hands accidentally brushing as Nat does her best to keep the pace of the 5’10 girl, who is already mid-ramble about a girl from next week’s opposing team.

“Some of us are just more different than others—for better or worse. You’d be surprised. And… did you just quote Beaches at me?”

Jackie huffs softly, lips parting as her finger traces the last few words. She pulls a post-it from her binder, ignoring the childish “oooohs” and wolf whistles from her teammates.

She bends forward on the bench, her pen already moving.

“I think I already know. You are surprising. And… no ;) ?”

Jackie knows it’s risky. Almost dangerous, really.

Here she was, exposing herself in a way that could go terribly wrong. There was always the chance Jeff would tell someone—or that this whole thing could unravel her carefully maintained popularity.

But she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t even having a conversation with eye contact, and yet… she had never felt so seen before. Understood in a way that didn’t feel forced or superficial.

She loved her parents. She knew they cared for her—in their own way.

But instead of warm family dinners and soft moments, their love looked more like carefully structured plans, expensive gifts to compensate for another game missed and relentless expectations. It was always about making the most out of her life. She knew they wouldn’t probably approve of… whatever this was with Jeff. She supposedly had Dylan. Hell, her parents probably already envisioned an engagement, even though they weren’t even in their twenties yet.

Not that anyone had asked her how she felt about him.

They weren’t exactly great at having conversations that didn’t revolve around praise for her academic or social achievements or pre-packaged life advice.  The most affection she ever got were stiff pats on the shoulder and the occasional side hug—before they left for yet another week away. 

But Jeff gave her that, a safe space to truly speak and be heard. There was something in the way he wrote that made Jackie feel like she finally had something to hold onto. Something that felt real and not carefully planned like her life was.

Was it so wrong to want to choose something for herself, just this once?

With that thought in mind, she stood and grabbed her bag to go hit the showers, mud and sweat still on her face. She always carried his letters with her—every single one. The weight of them in her bag felt oddly comforting, like a small anchor.

She was so stuck into that though, that she didn't even notice one of the papers slipping, swirling the air before landing right under the bench, right onto the green grass. 

Only for it to be picked up by someone a few moments later. 

Chapter Text

Shauna grumbled under her breath, struggling to close the door with one hand. Today had been nothing short of chaotic—between the printer refusing to cooperate and a long line of grumpy professors demanding copies of the midterm exams set for later this week and the yearbook committee being on her case again. As the photography coordinator, she couldn’t exactly tell them no. It was now her job to start planning event coverage, especially with most of the sports clubs kicking off their seasons in the coming weeks. And, of course, that included the girls’ soccer team.

So if you asked Shauna why she was wandering past the soccer field—even though Tai and Van had already gone home—she’d probably say it was for that. But the truth was, she couldn’t stop thinking about… her.

The sky had cooled into deep blues, streaked with the last remnants of dark orange bleeding out over the horizon. The sun had already waved goodbye, leaving behind a sharp evening breeze that rustled through the trees and the stars peeking out. Most people had long gone home, and the only sound left was the wind. 

The field lights had switched on, white and piercing against the dusk.

That’s what pulled Shauna in—curiosity and something else she wouldn’t name. The bright stadium lights illuminated a lone figure moving across the field. It was already close to 8 PM, and yet, someone was still out there.

As she stepped closer, the blinding light gave way to a darkened silhouette—someone apparently practicing free kicks. From where Shauna stood—just behind the goal—she had a perfect view of who was still on the field at this hour.

Hazel-brown hair tied in a messy ponytail, with damp strands clinging to her forehead, others loose around her cheekbones in a way that felt unfairly perfect. Eyes darkened—not just by the low late October sky—but with razor-sharp focus and adrenaline. Her cheeks were flushed, soft and pink, but it didn’t dull the intensity of her expression. A yellow number nine peeking through the mud and grass plastered across her flowy uniform.

Shauna’s feet moved on their own, dragging her toward the corner lines. From there, the white stadium lights framed her perfectly, her silhouette cutting against the growing shadows.

With hands almost trembling, Shauna reached into her bag and pulled out her camera, raising it quickly. Through the lens, she saw it clearly—a breathless composition.

An athlete in motion, fierce and unrelenting. The green grass submitting beneath her, blades bending and breaking under the force of each stride. And just then came the strike—her powerful leg cutting through the air with precision, sending the ball soaring effortlessly across the field. The rest of her body followed in seamless sync, adjusting like second nature, all instinct and muscle memory. 

A moment suspended in time—one that could never be captured again. Shauna was so immersed in it, in the raw power and grace unfolding in front of her, that she could almost feel the firm, warm hand of her father resting on her shoulder, rooting her in place.

She was a child again, crouched in the backyard, trying to capture a butterfly perched delicately on a branch. The smell of flowers in bloom made her nose twitch a bit.

“Be patient,” he whispered, careful not to startle the insect. “But don’t overthink it.”

Little Shauna nodded, her small hands trembling, now sweaty as they clutched the still too-big-camera too tightly. Her feet firmly on the ground as her father crouched next to her. 

“Hold your breath when you are ready to take the shot.” he murmured, his patience always present in his voice.  “Remember, our brains can’t process everything our eyes give us all at once… you have to break it down into frames. Don't let it fool you.”

“How do I know when to take the picture?” she had asked, her voice barely above a breath.

Her father let out a soft chuckle. Gently, he placed his hands over hers, adjusting her grip, easing the tension from her fingers. Then he squared her shoulders, lining her up with the shot.

“You’ll know, Shauna. You’ll know.”

Everything in her now aligned with that same instinct. Time slowed. The world narrowed. She inhaled, held her breath, and waited—just until the perfect second.

Then came the exhale.

Her finger pressed the button, snapping a quiet rush of frames — capturing the power, the stillness, the life of the moment.

The perfect shot. The perfect picture.

The oxygen rushed out of her lungs as she saw it. Dizziness made her stumble slightly as she lowered the camera to check. She gulped, her throat tightening as a current of electricity surged through her. Every inch of her body felt like a live wire. She’d gotten it. A dumb smile tugged at her lips, the muscles there tingling— as if they weren’t used to such an expression. It was too much, too overwhelming. Maybe that’s why she didn’t notice the warning. Didn’t feel a current of air shift.

Until something smacked her square in the face.

An undignified yelp escaped her, the sheer surprise and force of the impact knocking her off balance. She stumbled with absolutely no grace, landing hard on her butt—another place that now hurt like a bitch, right alongside her entire face. She could only hope that the liquid she felt leaking down her face was sweat… maybe even tears. Anything but what she feared it really was.

Rushed footsteps echoed toward her, the distinct sound of cleats against grass.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! I was trying a new trick and -fuck.”

Shauna barely registered the panicked voice; the blood pounding in her ears made it nearly impossible to focus. She groaned as she tried to sit up, still so disoriented that embarrassment hadn’t even settled in yet.

“Here, let me help you...”

Delicate yet steady hands pressed against her back—warm, grounding—completely at odds with the cold, rough earth beneath her. The emotional whiplash made it hard to open her eyes, but when she finally did, she was nearly blinded by the harsh white beams of the field lights cutting through the dark.

There, standing in the glow like she’d stepped out of some fever dream, was Jackie Taylor.

Light surrounded her like a halo, her expression softened with concern, an odd, almost misplaced worry that didn’t quite suit her. The slight frown, the tiny wrinkle near the corner of her mouth. Shauna didn’t know whether to feel sad for seeing Jackie like this... or completely entranced by a version of her she hadn’t known existed.

Perhaps she had a concussion. She had to focus to make out what the girl was saying.

“Gosh, I’m so, so sorry. Are you hurt?” Jackie cringed. “Of course you are—what kind of stupid question is that? Did your head hit the ground hard? Shit, you might have a concussion. Coach Scott warned us those are nasty. Here, let me check—”

Before Shauna could react, those same hands were suddenly framing her face, gently but firmly pulling her forward.

They were close, close enough for Shauna to see the flecks of gold swirling in Jackie’s big hazel eyes, her pupils wide enough that Shauna could make out her own reflection in them. Close enough to notice the faint freckles scattered like constellations across the bridge of Jackie’s nose. With a sight like that, who would want to look up at the barren night sky?

And close enough that Shauna worried Jackie might hear how loudly her heart was beating, and somehow fear that she knew the fall wasn’t the reason why it was beating so goddamn loud.

Shauna couldn’t move—couldn’t even breathe. Her brain was already going fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

"Here, how many fingers am I holding?"

If Shauna were in any other situation, one where her motor functions were actually working, she probably would’ve giggled. Maybe even made a remark about how this wasn’t really the proper way to check for a concussion.

But Shauna wasn’t in any other situation. And Jackie Taylor was less than six inches from her face. So no, she did not function as she should have and her whole being felt like it was consumed by flames. 

“Uh… three?” she gasped out, sounding like a drooling idiot.

She was only grateful that Jackie chalked up her delay to the ball that had just smacked her in the head. Jackie exhaled in relief, nodding. 

"Okay, that’s good."

Finally, all the worry on Jackie’s face gave way to a small smile. Not the one meant for the class, the team, or their teachers. It was softer—more mischievous like—the corner of her mouth curling just slightly, revealing a faint dimple.

It was contagious. Shauna felt herself mirroring it without even thinking. Slowly, her heart began to stabilize, her breathing evening out. The adrenaline wore off just enough for her to start noticing the throbbing pain in her face... and how painfully close they still were.

Close enough to feel like too much...And yet not enough at all.

As if realizing it at the same time, Jackie let out a nervous laugh and pushed herself to her feet, immediately offering a hand. Shauna already missed the warmth of her touch, but she took the offered hand without hesitation.

With surprising strength, Jackie pulled her up in one smooth motion—Shauna stumbled slightly, off balance. Jackie steadied her instinctively, her hands landing on Shauna’s shoulders.

"Woah there, no more falls, Shipman. One was quite enough." She joked. Shauna bit off a dumb grin. “I’m really sorry. Does it hurt a lot?”

Shauna hummed. “What hurts?”

“Uh… your face?” Jackie asked, a teasing lilt in her voice, amusement barely hidden behind the words. “Maybe we should get someone to actually check you out.”

It was clearly a joke, but there was still a real note of concern beneath it. The mix of playfulness and worry made Shauna feel both embarrassed and… weirdly touched.

“N-no- no, I’m fine. Really. The fall just knocked the wind out of me. It’s okay.”

Jackie nodded, her eyes drifting downward for a moment. Shauna followed her gaze, her camera still hung from her neck, thankfully unscathed. She reached for it carefully, her fingers brushing over the lens.

“Did you at least get a good pic?”

The question hit her like a slap. Immediate mortification surged through Shauna, snapping her straight out of her dazed, dreamy state.

Shit. The photo. Jackie saw her taking it.

God , Shauna thought, she must think I’m some kind of creep - standing here alone, photographing her in the middle of the dark like a total freak without her knowing.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck—

Shauna took a step back without meaning to, her fingers twisting nervously around the worn leather strap of her camera. Her gaze flitted everywhere except Jackie’s face.

“Y-yeah, um, about that… I’m really sorry. I should’ve asked. It’s just—” she let out a shaky breath, “you looked so focused, and yo- uhthe lighting was perfect, and I just-....”

Jackie reached out gently, her hand resting over Shauna’s clenched one. The warmth of it steadied her more than she wanted to admit.

“Hey. It’s okay, really,” Jackie said softly. “I know you’re the school photographer.”

Shauna blinked. Right, she was the school photographer,  so…mot weird at all, right?. “You… you do?”

Jackie smiled, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Duh. You’re amazing! Those shots you got of the team last season? Especially the one you took of the save Van made in the Woodsbury game? Unreal.”

Shauna stared at her, stunned. For a second, the tightness in her chest loosened and finally released. “Oh that’s…yeah.” Her voice sounded so pathetic in her rears that she genuinely wanted for the ground to split open and swallow her. Because the information of Jackie knowing things about her, not only one but more , had her spiraling.

An awkward pause stretches between them. Jackie gives another small, reassuring smile and walks over to pick up the ball, twirling it around in her hands absentmindedly while Shauna is losing it internally.

“Didn’t know there was a lot to photograph this late,” Jackie says, approaching her again. “Why are you still here?”

Shauna shrugs. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That earns her a smirk. “Touché,” Jackie agrees. “You sure you’re okay?”

Shauna nods again.

“Then you’re up to help me?”

Her face scrunches in confusion. “Oh, uh… I don’t really know how to um-”

“It’s okay. Just a few passes so I can practice a volley. That’s what I was trying to do when the whole…” She gestured vaguely toward Shauna’s face. “... Thing happened. It’s kind of hard to practice it alone.”

Shauna wanted to say no. She wanted to sprint back to her room and bury herself in her journal while regretting every life choice that led her here (and definitely write in detail about how beautiful Jackie’s eyes looked up close).

But she couldn’t resist the way Jackie looked at her expectantly, her face lit up with excitement, already jogging off toward the goal like she knew Shauna would agree.

So Shauna nodded… and did exactly as she was told.

The first few rehearsals were a bit awkward as Shauna tried to adjust her passes so Jackie could hit the ball. Most of the time, Jackie managed to make contact, but only a few landed right, and even fewer had the strength or precision to go exactly where she wanted them.

Shauna could hear Jackie’s frustrated mutters, but she also saw the fire in her eyes- hard as steel, unwavering in its determination. She wasn’t sure when they started talking.

“I managed to get Nat to stay until seven, but then she had to bail,” Jackie said after Shauna asked if she’d practiced this with anyone else before. “She was exhausted. Coach Martinez had us doing suicides after the scrimmage.”

Shauna flinched at that, bending down to pick up the ball again before walking to her designated spot. She may not have joined a sports club, but PE had traumatized her enough to know that was no joke.

“Well… aren’t you too?” she asked, seeking reassurance. Jackie gave a quick nod for her to throw the ball—a few feet ahead, so she could adjust and strike it with her right leg.

Jackie managed to send it flying with real strength this time. The only issue was precision—it bounced right off the post.

Shauna hummed, impressed at the slow but steady progress.

Still facing the goal, Jackie shrugged.

“Yeah. But still, I want to get this down to a T before our first match.”

She lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her forehead, and Shauna, helplessly catching a peak of her toned stomach, immediately looked away, her cheeks burning.

“You see, the truth is... I may be the captain, but I’m not the best on the team—not by a long shot.” Jackie laughed, her shirt finally lowering, ger hand resting on her hits as she stretched her neck upwards. No bitterness or resentment in her voice, just honesty. Pure and raw.

“Lottie’s footwork is the best in the team. Nat’s the top scorer—her precision’s borderline terrifying. Tai reads passes and strategies like she’s psychic. And Van? She practically flies like a guardian angel.” Jackie listed them off, each name coated in admiration like she was seeing it all again in her head. “Even Coach Martinez said the only reason he made me captain was because I have influence. So I have to do a bit more if I don't want to be left behind or be a burden.”

She chuckled at that, but Shauna caught the flicker of insecurity buried underneath.

That sigh made her reckless. “That’s not true.” She blurted, eyes widened at the sudden bravery she felt.

Jackie paused, surprised, her brows raising slightly. Shauna gulped, quickly jogging to the far side of the field to retrieve the ball and give herself something to do.

“Like sure, you have influence. But you also read the game like no one else.” She started, her hands slick against the plastic of the ball. “You always seem to know exactly where everyone is on the pitch as if you could read their minds, anticipating the opposing team’s moves, and positioning your teammates perfectly- like…like a conductor leading an orchestra.” 

She exhaled slowly, her mind replaying the match she’d seen earlier. Gradually, she stepped back.

“And… you- you really care. You can tell when someone’s too fatigued to press forward or if someone’s limping after a tough tackle. You keep the team’s intensity up, even when you’re trailing with just minutes left on the clock and you are exhausted. You never give up, on either yourself or the team.” Shauna shrugged, feeling a little awkward. 

Jackie held her gaze, clearly impressed. The look manages to make her stumble a little, looking at the ground as she finally gets into her previous spot. Jackie doesn't seem to get in position. 

“I think that’s why you’re the captain… or at least why you’re a good one.” She finally breathed out, the words tumbling from her lips along with all the air in her lungs. Jackie just stood there, staring at her, as if trying to figure something out. The silence made Shauna panic.

“I–I mean, Tai is my best friend, so I usually catch your games when I can, and I don’t know… it’s not like I’m a football expert or anything, I just—noticed?” Her voice sounded pathetically small in her own ears.

Jackie took a step closer, until the ball still cradled in Shauna’s sweaty hands was the only thing between them. Those hazel eyes kept searching her face...and then, suddenly, a smile bloomed. One that lifted the fog of doubt in Shauna’s chest. She opened her mouth slightly but didn’t say anything.

There was another beat of silence.

“…Have you ever shot a penalty?”

Huh. That was unexpected. “Um, not that I remember?”

Jackie’s eyes widened. “What?! Not even in PE?”

“I mean, not really. Usually the sportier kids took over- I’m not exactly known for my hand-eye coordination.” She shrugged, still unsure where Jackie was going with this, until she caught the grin. That wicked, too-charming grin.

Oh no.

“We’ve gotta fix that. Come on! I’ll teach you how to shoot a killer free kick, Shipman.”

Shauna tensed, nervously fidgeting with the corner of her red flannel.

“Jackie, I don’t know…”

Jackie actually pouted- and Jesus Christ, why was it so hard to say “no” to Jackie Taylor? Was this her new reality now?

Before she knew it, she was following. Jackie placed the ball on the white dot, then looked up at her with a brightness that could rival the sun. The kind of expression that made Shauna understand why half the school would do just about anything to have her attention. Clearly, she wasn’t any better than them.

“I mean, I just have to kick it, right?” Shauna muttered, mostly to reassure herself.

Jackie chuckled and gestured for her to get into place. “Right. And if I trip over my own feet, it better stay between us, Taylor.”

Jackie nodded solemnly, crossing two fingers over her heart. “Promise. Scout’s honor.”

“You were in the Scouts?”

She shook her head. “Eh, not really. I’ve never been a fan of the outdoors. I’m basically useless when it comes to survival-in-the-wild stuff.” She shudders, “Besides, they were too… rowdy.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Shauna. “You are literally covered in mud and grass after an entire evening of tackling and shoving people to the ground. How is that not rowdy?”

Jackie laughed too, clearly amused. “Yeah yeah, don’t think I don’t see through your distraction techniques, Shipman. Here- ”

Her hands moved gently to Shauna’s shoulders, guiding her to face the goalpost. Shauna held her breath, doing her best to keep her body relaxed as Jackie adjusted her stance. The distinct scent of fresh grass, lavender, and just a hint of sea breeze made it much harder to focus. How Jackie still managed to smell good after running around and sweating was a mystery Shauna wasn’t equipped to solve.

“Back straight, no slouching.” Jackie pulled her shoulders back, now fully positioning herself behind her. “Angle your body to the post. If you can, set your hips so they...yep, like that. Good. Here, you’re a leftie, right?” she muttered, focused.

Her hands lowered, adjusting Shauna’s position by lightly guiding her torso, then her hips. The touch was barely there, ghostly and polite, but enough to send Shauna’s mind spiraling. Jackie was so close that Shauna could feel her lips accidentally brush, ever so slightly, against the nape of her neck. And all she could do was silently pray to the God she once had a religious phase with, hoping Jackie wouldn’t notice the goosebumps rising across her skin.

“Okay,” Jackie said softly, her voice low and focused, her touch lingering just a second longer before she stepped away. Shauna bit her lip.

“You’re gonna want to keep that position memorized, alright? Now take three steps back.”

She did as told, which was unusual for her - Shauna always had a comment about everything. But right now, she wasn’t in the mood to say anything at all.

“Here.” Jackie said, approaching again, her hands reaching for the camera strap still hanging around Shauna’s neck. “Let me take that for you?” she asked, pausing to wait for confirmation.

Shauna hesitated.

She usually never let anyone touch it - not even her mom, not even Tai. It was the last gift her father had ever given her before he...- and she didn’t trust anyone else with it. But as she looked at Jackie, her expression full of nothing but patience and quiet understanding, something in her softened. Slowly, she slid the strap over her head and handed it to her. All while benign mindfull of not making their fingers graze.

As if she instinctively understood how much it meant, Jackie cradled it gently, like it was a newborn before sliding it into her own neck by the strap.

“Good,” Jackie said, stepping beside the ball again. “Now, when you run up, don’t aim with your toe. Use the side of your foot here, see?” She tapped the inside of her cleat.

Shauna assented with her head, her tongue feeling too heavy to speak.

“That’ll give you control. And also stop it from hurting.” She added with a wink. Shauna just looked at the ball, her hair falling over her cheek and hiding the ting of pink dusting it. 

With a breath, she did as instructed, doing her best to keep all the steps in mind. Her run-up was… slightly awkward, her movements a bit unsure as she approached the ball. She rotated her body like Jackie had shown her earlier (in a very, very dedicated demonstration), pulling her left leg back before striking. But her foot moved on instinct, and it wasn’t until a second too late that Shauna remembered she was supposed to hit it with the side.

The ball barely rolled into the net - slow and a little wobbly, but it still crossed the line, brushing the post. Jackie clapped once, grinning.

“Not bad, Shipman.”

Shauna groaned in embarrassment, the sight managing to depress her.

“It went in out of a miracle, and we both know it.”

“Maybe,” Jackie shrugged, “but it still went in, didn’t it?”

Shauna still couldn’t believe the pure optimism the girl radiated.

“I guess. Happy now?”

Jackie grunted, crossing her arms while shaking her head as she watched. “Eh, not really. Let’s do one more.”

Shauna let out a dramatic sigh. “Are you seriously this desperate to find new recruits or something?”

“Why?” Jackie teased, eyebrows raised. “You offering?”

Shauna scoffed, biting back a smile.

“Yeah, right. Maybe when hell freezes over.”

“I’ll hold my breath.”

They went back and forth a little more, Jackie coaching with nothing short of seriousness and dedication, Shauna half-listening and half-distracted by how nice her voice sounded. God, pathetic much? 

 After a few more tries, Shauna finally managed a cleaner shot—this time the ball sailed into the top corner of the net, fast and sharp.

“Holy-!” Shauna stammered, mouth dropping open as she realized she had done that. Somehow. She spun around to face Jackie, who looked just as stunned, her hands flying to her mouth in disbelief. “Did you see that?” Shauna beamed, breathless.

Before she could even process it fully, Jackie let out a holler, running over to her–jumping into her and making them collide in a brief, laughing embrace.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Shipman!”

Jackie’s arms wrapped around her for just a moment, warm and grounding before they both seemed to realize what they were doing. They quickly pulled apart, clearing their throats awkwardly. Shauna stretched her neck, eyes locked on the grass like it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

Jackie gave her a playful nudge. “See? We’ll make a star player out of you yet, Shipman.”

“Yeah, sure.” Shauna chuckled, playing along.

They stood there for a beat, catching their breath, the silence suddenly a little heavier. Then Shauna felt a drop of sweat slide down her temple, breaking the moment.

“So… does this mean we’re dismissed, Coach?” she asked, grinning as the leftover adrenaline loosened her up.

Jackie smirked and Shauna knew she was just about to say something nothing short of deviousness. “I mean, we could also try a header if you’re down for it. I happen to be very good at those.” She added, jokingly knocking her head to emphasize her point.

Shauna flushed immediately, regretting where her mind went as she scolded herself silently. Jackie’s eyes sparkled, her ridiculously charming dumb grin making her canine upper tooth peek out.

“I think we’re good for now, Taylor,” Shauna dismissed quickly, her chest melting at the laugh she got in return.

“Eh, your loss. That’s my killer move, Shipman.”

Chapter Text

Shauna couldn’t fall asleep that night. And a couple after. Her mind was too stuck on what had happened in the empty soccer field, leaving her body restless—hands fidgeting, legs swinging—as she helplessly stared at the ceiling. Her face grew warmer, not from the weather, but from the thought that refused to leave her mind.

It left her feeling ridiculous, like some stupid schoolgirl with a crush. Which… she reluctantly guessed she was. It had just taken her years to admit it. Because saying it out loud—well, even to herself—made everything real.

She, Shauna Shipman, had a relentless cru— No. That word felt too weak, too shallow and childish to begin describing what she felt for Jackie.

There was no point in trying to pinpoint when it started. At first, she chalked her sudden interest up to the stereotypical teenage jealousy. After all, Jackie was everything she wasn’t. She was popular, charismatic, and seemed to draw attention no matter where she went.

But then that interest shifted into curiosity. Curiosity eventually deepened into fascination.

And now… now Shauna was swapping heartfelt letters with her under the alias of Jeff Sadecki, of all people—granted a private peek into Jackie’s soul while still remaining unknown.

It felt as exhilarating as it did terrifying.

That was the thought still lingering in her mind as she sat, half-asleep, in Teacher Scott's philosophy class. The topic was existentialism — usually something she enjoyed — but today, she couldn’t seem to focus. Her head was heavily propped on one hand, eyelids drooping, nearly slipping into sleep when the sharp clang of the bell jolted her upright.

Looking at her notebook, only some doodle and something that looks like a JT x SS greeted her. 

Okay, so… no notes. Great .

Students began filing out, chatter filling the room, while she lazily stuffed her things into her backpack. She had barely taken three steps toward the center of the class when Ben planted himself in front of her.

“A minute of your time, Miss Shipman.”

Her eyebrows shot up, but he gave no explanation, only waited until the last student slipped out.

Then his hand went to his right pocket, unfolded a paper, and planted it toward her face. His expression was flat and expectant. Shauna froze when she saw her own handwriting, eyes briefly going like some kid caught doing something they shouldn't.

Immediate embarrassment made her neck flush, but she held it in. 

“Is this why half my class is failing? And the reason why my captain hasn't been focused during the drills lately?”

It sounded more like a statement than a question. Shauna didn't know what to say for a split second, her mind quickly rerouting to find the best course of action. The mortification that he got to read something that was meant for Jackie made her whole body feel like it was going to combust.

There is only one thing she can do. Deny, deny, deny.

“What’s that got to do with me?” she asked with feigned confusion, leaning in to look at the paper as if she hadn’t spent almost an hour rewriting it in her room at 2 A.M.

 “If anything, you should talk it out with Jeff—”

Ben sighed. “Don’t do that, Shauna. You really think I wouldn’t recognize your writing in a heartbeat?”

They looked at each other. His eyes were brown, a shade similar to hers if not lighter, and somehow they had a talent for making someone spill their secrets. Releasing a breath, she grabbed it and shoved it into her pocket.

“This is not some…- essay you hand, Shauna. This is playing with someone’s heart, not some profit making business."

“I know.” Shauna looked to the ground. “I’ll reopen business soon enough–” she said, defeat sour on her tongue. By confronting her, Ben had also burst her bubble. “It’s not like it’ll last much longer.”

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? Whatever she had with Jackie had an inevitable end. 

His gaze softened, maybe even showing understanding and realization. “...But you want it to, don’t you?”

Worst of all was the pity in his expression. A pang of frustration hit her square on the chest, her hands unconsciously curling into fists as a defense mechanism. She already knew that. The temporarity of this situation. She felt it with every word she wrote, every phrase she read.

Did he really have to rub salt in the wound? Why was everyone so hellbent on taking this away from her?

Writing to Jackie felt like a breath of fresh air after years of inhaling smoke. It made her feel alive—not just like somebody being dragged along by routine and social expectations. Was it so wrong that she chose this for herself and allowed herself to have it for as long as it may last?

Unable to stand it anymore, she stormed off, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack tight as Ben called out for her. 

***

The only thing that made the rest of the day even slightly worth living was the latest letter Jackie had sent. Somehow convincing Jeff to let her have it so she could “analyze it and write a better reply”. It wouldn’t be the first time.

In truth, she and Jackie have exchanged more notes than Jeff knows about as she didn't bother to tell him to get paid or anything.

So with that, she slipped away to the bleachers, still fairly empty, to read it in peace with her legs tucked.

“There was this coach I had once. One who said that most sports, like chess and football, could be decided within five moves. That’s the difference between a ‘good’ match and a ‘great’ match.”

The corner of her lips lifted slightly. She could feel the passion Jackie had for the sport in every word. It reminded her of when she was into photography… only she eventually drifted away from it because there came a time when it brought more pain than relief.

“I didn’t really believe it at first, you know. During a match, there can be hundreds of moves and decisions — passes, interceptions, saves, to just reduce all those ninety minutes into five moves? I thought it was ridiculous! But… Now that I’m older, I think the very idea is terrifying.

Those are supposed to be the bravest moves we make. The greatest. Because the thing is, if you’re brave enough to make them, even when the final whistle might mean you lose… that’s what makes it worth playing.

And now I think those ‘five moves’ exist off the field too. In life. Those moments when you have the ultimate power to decide whether you’re about to screw it up completely… or make something beautiful. The question, of course, is… what five moves? 

I think the question is too big for a town like this.”

The words stayed with her for some time. Shauna’s camera, hidden in her bag, made her hum in thought. She was already taking a risk with this whole situation, so what was one more?

With that idea in mind, she stood up, feeling more energized than she had all semester.

***

(Jackie POV)

Jackie was in the middle of stretching, her mind clearly somewhere else as she glanced over the stands.

“What are we staring at?” Nat asked, stretching her quads while trying to follow her gaze.

She said nothing, eyes fixed on the familiar figure jogging off toward the main building. She kept watching until it disappeared from sight.

“Was that Shauna Shipman?” Lottie asked with feigned disinterest, hand on top of her eyes to see despite the sun.

Jackie’s attention snapped toward her, head tilting slightly in curiosity as she asked if Lottie knew her. The taller girl nodded with her head, resting her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, I’ve had a couple of class projects with her. She ran them like the Navy…” she added with a snort, “but we always got an A+. She’s also pretty nice behind the whole broody cover.”

Jackie nodded at that, her mind drifting to that night. Her smile had been nice too, she thought. 

Lottie stared at her for a beat, eyes sharp—like she was assessing something.

She always had that unnerving way of looking at people, like she’d already figured out something you didn’t want her to know or that you weren't even aware of yourself in the first place.

“She is pretty cute.” Lottie added carelessly. Jackie raised an eyebrow.

“I mean—big brown eyes and all. Makes me wonder why she’s never dated—Hey, Tai! Do you know if Shauna dates? You’re her friend, right?”

Tai, kneeling to tighten her cleat, shot her a suspicious look. “Why the interest, Matthews?” 

Lottie gave her shoulder a shake, a mischievous little smile revealing everything and nothing at all.

“Can’t a girl be curious?”

Jackie didn’t know why, but a sudden wave of annoyance clouded her expression. She couldn’t even pinpoint what about it bothered her so much. 

It wasn’t like she was homophobic or anything—she was friends with Van and Tai, and everyone knew they were together even if they hadn’t outright announced it yet.

She’d never judge anyone for liking girls. Less Lottie if she…liked Shauna.  

Besides, doesn’t everyone like girls a little bit? They’re more beautiful than guys, smell nicer, and— That’s not the point!

So why did it bug her?

Thankfully, before she could spiral any deeper into her own thoughts, Nat’s scoff cut through the moment.

“Please,” Nat said, voice playful but with just the tiniest shadow of a scowl, “Jackie’s probably just looking around for her Romeo.”

Her cheeks burned as the rest of the girls erupted into hoots and a few dramatic “awww”s. They’d been like this ever since they found out about the letters—something she had Lottie to thank for. 

“I still can’t believe it’s Jeff-” Mari said, lounging in the shade with Akilah beside her. “I once saw him spell casa with a K… and we’ve been taking Spanish for like years.” A few people snorted in agreement.

“Has he even talked to you in person or anything?”

Jackie shook her head. The truth was, every letter from Jeff had arrived in the most discreet ways — slipped into her locker, tucked onto her desk when she wasn’t looking. The few times she’d tried to catch him in the act, he’d gone pale and bolted.

She honestly didn’t know what to make of it. Jeff in person, and Jeff on paper, felt like two completely different people. But she couldn’t deny it — she was curious. She liked getting his letters. They made her feel… less lonely. Even when she was surrounded by people, Jeff’s words made her feel seen.

And maybe that’s why she didn’t want to burst the bubble. Because what if asking questions — or worse, getting an answer — made it all disappear?

“Taylor! Less cloud watching and more running!” The sharp yell of Mr.Martinez snap, echoing throughout the entire fields and making her spine straight up almost immediately. 

The others snickered as she settled into their running peace. 

***

Jackie held the torn notebook page in her hand, scanning her surroundings while keeping an eye out for anyone nearby. She followed the instructions until she found herself in the right place. If someone had told her she’d spend a Saturday chasing random coordinates, she would’ve laughed.

Yet here she was, standing in front of a mural near Wiskayok’s small theater.

Finally tucking the paper away, she noticed a small cardboard plaque resting against the wall. She moved it aside, revealing a loose brick. Just like the note had hinted, behind it was a stash: a couple of Polaroid cameras (each one with a Player 1 and Player 2 post it which made her whisper a “dork” while smiling at the pun), a can of spray paint, and another folded slip of paper. She unfolded it eagerly.

 “I’ve been thinking about what you said. And yeah, our town definitely isn’t in the “Top Wonders of the World”… but how well do you really know Wiskayok?

It can be sort of beautiful—if you know how to look. And when to snap the photo.”

Stepping closer to the wall, Jackie spotted a single picture taped to it. She leaned in. It was a scenic shot of the school campus, probably taken at dusk from a high vantage point that turned the familiar, boring view into something unexpectedly striking. Next to it was a painted arrow and the words: Your move.

A spark of excitement rushed through her. Grinning, Jackie grabbed the camera, her fingers already itching to take the next shot.

***

Day by day, the wall grew in pictures—aligned messily, yet with an unspoken purpose. From sunsets bleeding gold across the horizon to wild rabbits caught mid-leap in the forest near Jackie’s house, everything seemed to find its spotlight there.

Leftover messages and playful taunts decorated the edges, framing the photos like a running commentary.

“Bet you can’t top this.”  

It was written next to a careful composition of Polaroids arranged into the shape of a sunflower—each petal made from close-ups of common brick walls, each center piece taken from the blazing midday sun.

The next day, a reply appeared beneath it: Oh please, that’s the best you can do?

They even dared each other to find certain landmarks, lacing the challenges with teasing clues.

Pinning up her photo, Shauna smiled as she added a small doodle in the corner. The frame captured a fox curled in its burrow, its fur warmed by the scatter of yellow and red leaves. “Guess where I found it?”

“No way! You know Fritzergard?” came Jackie’s reply, right beside a shot of the same fox—this time with its mate and a single cub sleeping between them.

A connection began to take root. Not through grand revelations—especially in Shauna’s case, since she had to be careful—but through the quiet secrets of the place they’d both grown up in. It made Shauna wonder what it might have been like if she and Jackie had been friends when they were little. If they would have been this close.

And that was the funny thing yet, wasn’t it? They were so close, yet remained separated. It was one of the things that both exhilarated and scared her the most. They seemed to have an unspoken agreement—Shauna went in the mornings, Jackie more in the evenings—never once crossing paths. Still, the thought of a slip, of Jackie catching her instead of Jeff, almost made her call it off. 

But each morning, she woke with nothing but eagerness to see what Jackie had photographed—what had caught her attention this time. That small, daily anticipation made it worth the risk.

It was their secret. She knew Jackie hadn’t talked about it with anyone else—because if she had, Shauna would’ve already been cornered by a stern Tai telling her how stupid she was being. But it wasn’t that bad, Shauna told herself. She’d only had one close call two days ago, when she overslept and got caught up at school.

She’d been risking it again tonight, sticking up her latest photo—a shot of the full moon—when she heard footsteps approaching. Heart jolting, she quickly shoved the spray paint behind the wall and darted away, just in time to see dirty-blonde hair appear around the corner. She’d always been the fast one during PE races. Her dad used to say it was a reason she should try out for the peewee football team.

She knew she should leave, but her legs refused to move. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she crouched behind a dumpster across the alley, leaning just enough to peek.

Jackie stood there, mesmerized, taking in their growing mural. She stepped closer, her gaze lingering on Shauna’s most recent—too recent—addition. Then she smiled. Shauna couldn’t look away. Jackie swung her bag off her shoulder, pulled out her own photo, and placed it nearby, even though the wall was running out of space. She added something in paint, nodded in quiet approval—the little self-satisfied gesture Shauna had noticed she often did—and then packed everything away before walking off.

Shauna waited until the footsteps faded away. Her eyes widened as she saw a new photo—a shot of the lake, stars shimmering and reflecting alongside the very same moon Shauna had captured. She held her breath, fingers gently tracing the image.

Eventually, the mural was complete. Each Polaroid came together into a visually pleasing composition neither of them could have fully predicted. From photos of local wildlife to familiar buildings, everything seemed to carry a secret signature or meaning.

Maybe that’s why it caught attention. People began to stop and stare for a few seconds, snapping pictures to post on social media. But that also brought the wrong kind of attention—especially from the store owner next door, who saw it not as a beautiful story but as an act of vandalism.

Both of them returned to find their work torn down, some photos ripped off, others piled near the very dumpster Shauna had once hidden behind. A fresh layer of paint covered the wall, erasing every message, doodle, and drawing. Maybe it was an act of revenge, especially after they kept adding new layers over the old.

“And just like that, it’s all gone.” Jackie wrote first, eyes shining with unspilled tears as she moved the nearly empty paint can. The truth was that until now, she has never seen herself as someone capable of creating, if doing art. Her parents were more worried for her to learn about economics and management than anything else. But with this project, she felt like for once she had done something for herself. 

“Everything has its bitter end, I guess.” Shauna replied, her nails digging onto the sift skin of the palms of her hands as she saw how it all got erased so quickly.

“Still, I wanted to do something beautiful.”

A smile softly traced her features. “And we did. It was real for a few moments. That’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah.” Jackie hummed thoughtfully, her expression contemplative. “Maybe that’s the point.”

With the same though in mind, both finally parted ways.

***

Albeit her own disbelief, Shauna found herself spending more and more time with Jeff Sadecki lately. Most of those moments involved her passing him letters to deliver or helping him scribble down details she needed. Somewhere along the way, she’d started picking up on his moods, his tells—little stories she never intended to know in the first place.

They were in Jeff’s father’s garage, the air thick with the sharp tang of wood shavings and fresh varnish. Shauna sat in a rolling chair across from him, watching as Jeff hunched over a sheet of paper, doodling… furniture blueprints? She wasn’t sure. The idea of Jeff actually committing something to paper was strange enough to make her stare. 

Still, his whole body practically buzzed, knees bouncing, pencil tapping restlessly against the page.

“I’m going to text her.” Oh God, not this again. “And before you say anything, it’s been AGES. My bank account is draining faster than Randy’s beer kegs at homecoming.” 

She almost winced at the reference. She watched terrified as he pulled out his phone and started typing what Shauna knew would be nothing but mistakes.

“Wait, wait —…I-We’re not ready. Why are you even going to text?” Shauna’s voice wavered as she reached over his shoulder, desperate to stop him before he hit send.

But Jeff was quick. He yanked the phone back like it was a live grenade. “At some point, you gotta take the jump, Shauna.”

“That doesn’t even make sense! What are you even going to say—”

“I don’t know! What’s been my intention for weeks maybe? Something like  ‘Hey, wanna go eat burgers and milkshakes and then order fries to dunk in the milkshake?’” Jeff grinned goofily as he kept typing.

Shauna rolled her eyes and tried to grab the phone again, but Jeff suddenly stood up, pulling the phone away just as she almost got it. They ended up in a weird tangle — Jeff wobbling, Shauna almost falling over, her arm hooked around his shoulder.

“We’re not there yet!”

“We so totally are!”

Shauna’s finger finally brushed the screen—and then the dreaded “send” sound blasted between them.

Both are frozen. Jeff’s eyes got wide. Neither daring to breathe. Slowly, Jeff removed Shauna off his shoulders, who settled next to him with a defeated thump and put the phone in between. 

“[🍔🍟🥤+🍟] tonite? I have [🚚]! [😊]”

”…Why so many emojis—“

”I-I don't know!” Jeff panicked, his free hands gesturing wildly. “I got nervous!”

”Then why did you keep typing moron—“ Her scolding got cold when her eyes were instantly attracted to the three dots appearing on the screen. The two held their breath as they flickered, once, twice. And then nothing. 

Both groaned. Shauna wiped her face while Jeff rested his forehead on the table. “Fuck, I ruined it. Jeff you idiot…” He hit his head against it before grumbling softly. 

Shauna’s head raced as some sort of desperation gnawed at her gut. This couldn’t be it. Not after everything. She was getting somewhere with Jackie. They were just starting to—It couldn’t be all for nothing. No, there had to be something to fix this. A shriek pulled her out of her incoming crisis. Suddenly, a kid bolted away from the door, followed by another one. Two of Jeff’s siblings. Jesus, how many did he have—

Her eyes widened. That’s it. That 's fucking it.

Rushing towards Jeff, she pried his phone away—an easy task now that Jeff had lost all vital force and looked like a ghost stuck in limbo.

“…What are you—” he mumbled.

“Got… hacked…” she muttered through the pure thrill of desperation, thumbs pounding the keyboard like the words might evaporate if she didn’t type fast enough. “Little… sister took my… phone. Wanna move this… to another platform like Discord? My username is… AntlerMonarch.”

With shaking hands, she hit send and prayed it landed well.

“Who is the AntlerMonar—”

Shauna’s cheeks flared red. It was from an account she’d made when she was younger.

“Doesn’t matter.”

They waited, eyes locked on the screen. For the dots. For the signal. Shauna begged every god that could possibly exist. Please, don’t let it be over. It felt like ages before a notification pinged on Shauna’s phone. She almost dropped Jeff’s in the process of fishing hers out of her pocket.

TaylorSwiftly: “Does the offer still stand?”

Both of them exhaled, lungs finally expanding. Jeff groaned in relief, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling before slumping into his chair. Shauna dropped into hers a beat later. The only sound was the faint chatter of birds slipping through the cracks of the garage door.

“We did it?” Jeff asked, holding out a fist.

Suddenly exhausted, Shauna met it. “We did it.”

That’s when it hit her—he would be going on this date. The relief in her chest curdled into something heavier, something bitter. Jeff Sadecki was going to have a date with Jackie Taylor. Not her, not Shauna Shipman. Him.

And the realization of it hurt more than she wanted to admit. 

Chapter Text

Unstable breath, sweaty hands, fidgety legs. One could think Shauna was going on a date.

But instead, she was stuck in the co-pilot seat of a vintage Ford, questioning all of her life choices. It helped that Jeff seemed even worse, like he was seconds from suffocation thanks to the tight collar of his shirt. 

Meanwhile, Shauna was rambling off—or practically drilling—details he needed to remember about the letters he supposedly  had exchanged with Jackie.

“Keep in mind, Folklore and Evermore are not the same. She prefers Folklore. Her favorite movie is Legally Blonde, but don’t drift into contemporary sitcoms because she also loves Scream- or psychological thrillers in general,” Shauna rambled, her words coming too fast to keep up with.

“She despises basketball, so don’t mention it. And if you bring up football, her position is… complicated. Even if she plays center forward as a striker, she can function as a false nine when needed, and-”

“Relax.” Jeff finally said, finally more composed, brushing his blond hair to the side in the rearview mirror. Shauna froze, taking a much-needed breath. “It’s a date, not a pop quiz.”

He kills off the switch, the rumbling of the car ceasing to stop. The quiet of the night feels too heavy all of the sudden, as if the world had stopped in that beat up car. The small dinner was alive in front of them, they were positioned so that Shauna could watch their seat. As creepy as that sounded.

“You have the…” She mutters, pointing at her ear. He nods, tapping the small device twice. A way for her to guide him though it if needed so that he wouldn't entirely blow everything off. It seems like a great idea at the moment, but now? Now it makes her skin crawl with the heavy feeling of intrusion. 

She will be reduced to that. An spectator into a story that didn't belong to her. Not really. 

“Alright then. Wish me luck.” He mutters with a grin, opening the door. Shauna nods, but says nothing.

***

It was almost painful. Shauna’s eyes squinted in secondhand discomfort as she watched (and unfortunately heard) the scene in front of her. Jeff had apparently gone completely nonverbal, just staring at Jackie like a total idiot. Jackie, for her part, looked entirely put off by it.

Ugh. She should have expected this.

From the moment Jackie stepped in, Jeff seemed to have lost all ability to form a coherent thought. Not that Shauna could exactly blame him.

Jackie wasn’t dressed in her usual “girl next door” uniform: no curated skirts, pastel tops, or carefully applied makeup like she’d usually wear.

Instead, she had gone for something different, and the way she absolutely beamed in it made Shauna let out a quiet sigh.

She wore a soft, off-white, 2000s-style top with lace fringes, layered under a fitted red denim jacket, the gold heart pendant at her neck gleaming against the deep maroon. Her usual skirts were gone, replaced by baggy blue jeans cinched with a slim brown leather belt, the hem grazing over her white-and-blue sneakers.

It was casual, easy and, the most fascinating thing is that she looked entirely at home in it. Like someone finally kicking off their shoes after being gone all day. It suited her. Perfectly.

She wore a smile from the moment she stepped in. Small, tentative. But genuine. Shauna wanted nothing more than to be on the receiving end of it. Instead, she was hidden in the darkness, watching its warmth from afar. God, why had she agreed to this again?

Jackie kicked off the conversation by sliding a copy of If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio across the table, wearing a rare sheepish smile born of hesitation.

“Here. This is my copy, I, uh… did some annotations. Thought you could get a different perspective for when we talk about it.”

Jeff just sat there, gawking. It went on so long that even Jackie started fidgeting, her smile threatening to fade under the awkward silence.

Shauna facepalmed so hard she swore she’d leave a mark. Say something, you idiot! she barked.

Jeff finally reached for the book. “Oh yeah, totally! I love, uh… dead birds.”

All three of them flinched. Jackie let out a small, uncomfortable laugh.

Like an angel, the waitress arrived with milkshakes, setting them down with a soft clink. Shauna exhaled, sliding further into the leather seat and doing her best not to just drive away from this whole situation.

Slightly flustered, Jackie tried again.

“This is nice, milkshakes and fries. It’s always good, getting to know new friends.”

Even Shauna winced at that. Jeff’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Totally. Friends.” He took a sip while Jackie toyed with her straw.

“This is a disaster,” Shauna muttered.

The rest of the hour was exactly that—Jackie trying to spark conversation about the things she and Shauna had discussed in their letters, only for Jeff to sputter nonsense or not reply at all. It felt like a lifetime before Jeff finally collapsed into the driver’s seat, the thud of the door sounding… decisive somehow. They sat in silence for a few seconds.

“That’s totally an F-” Shauna began.

“I know, Shauna,” Jeff groaned, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

While he drowned in his misery, Shauna pried the book out of his hands, her fingers brushing the cover with a sense of reverence. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the markers peeking out. Flipping the pages carefully, she caught hints of annotations in… glitter pen? It was so uniquely Jackie that she had to bite back a smile.

She couldn’t wait to go home and read the book through Jackie’s perspective. But first… she had to deal with the 5’11 problem sitting next to her. 

***

The next morning, she found herself cycling to school again, Jeff now keeping pace beside her as he seemed determined to defend his case. Shauna wondered since when he was capable of keeping up without panting and turning beet-red.

“It wasn’t that bad… right?” he tried.

Shauna rolled her eyes, not taking them off the road. “What part of that wasn’t ‘that bad’? You literally have nothing in common.”

“Well, maybe not yet, but I can learn!” His stubbornness was both familiar and irritating. “You can teach me, right?”

He almost begs, starting to lose his rhythm as his face reddens.

Shauna sighed, pondering. The last thing she wanted was to make Jeff and Jackie closer. Besides, what was she supposed to do—hand him a neatly labeled file containing every scrap of her Jackie knowledge? And worst of all… what if it actually worked?

Would she have to stand there when they had a better date? When Jackie left Dylan for him? Would she have to watch Jackie lean across the table and kiss him instead of—

Her mind betrayed her, replaying that night in the field. How Jackie ran toward her, laughter spilling into the cold air. The way she’d hugged her—tight, warm, like she was someone to be celebrated. Hazel eyes glowing, smile aimed at her and her alone.

Why was Jeff the one who deserved that now… and not her? Her fingers went white around the handlebars. Why would she help him get something she couldn’t even allow herself to dream of?

“Face it, Jeff. You and Jackie Taylor? Not happening.” 

Jeff had stopped running, bent over with his hands on his knees, breath ragged, legs trembling. Shauna pedaled ahead until a honk rattled the morning air. She knew that engine.

“Shit-shit—Shitman!! Looking good there!” Dylan hollered from the driver’s seat, his two sidekicks howling with laughter from the truck bed as they roared past.

Before Shauna could even grimace, pounding footsteps came from behind. Jeff, red-faced and furious, hurled an empty soda can with surprising accuracy.

“Who are you calling Shitman, huh?!” he bellowed, sprinting a few extra steps before slowing to a stop. The truck swerved just enough to dodge the can, the boys cursing out the window before speeding up. “Who just says shit like that and then drives off?!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you fucking cowards!” Jeff puffed, chest heaving. The victory lasted about two seconds before he collapsed, almost squatting before deciding sitting was the only option.

Shauna coasted her bike to a stop, raising an eyebrow as she studied him.

They locked eyes. Jeff’s expression wavered somewhere between wounded pride and raw exhaustion. “What…?” he panted.

Shauna stared back. God, he looked pathetic. Pathetic in that “kicked puppy” way—like the kind of stray you couldn’t help but stop for, even though you knew better. She exhaled, heavy and resigned, planting one foot on the ground. 

“You’ll have to study. Like, actually study. None of that half-assed skimming crap.”

Jeff perked up instantly, ears practically invisible but wagging golden retriever–style. “...Wait. Does that mean—” He babbled, wide-eyed.

Shauna cut him off with another sigh. “I’m not promising you anything. Honestly, I still think this is a terrible idea. But… if you’re willing to listen, maybe—maybe—you’ll have a tiny chance.”

She started pedaling again, only for Jeff to immediately lurch up and jog alongside her like he’d just been plugged into an outlet.

“Okay! Great! What do I need to know?”

“Jackie thinks you’re into cinematography, No Doubt, theater, and aware of classical football strategies,” Shauna rattled off.

“Great!”

She shot him a look sharp enough to puncture a tire. “-None of which is actually you. You’re Last Resort, baseball, parties and furniture catalogs in human form.”

“I could be!” he protested. “I even went to a bookstore yesterday.”

That made her blink. She tired to picture Jeff Sadecki in an actual library but found it difficult to do so.  

“...Did you?”

“Yeah. For a few minutes, before I got bored and fell asleep on one of the cushions.” He grinned, as if that were a success. “But! They had a book club. Maybe we could join, you teach me stuff, I get extra effort points—”

“Jeff.” She braked just long enough to glare. “There are no extra points for effort. Either Jackie likes you, or she doesn’t.”

He fell quiet for a second, then gave a small, tentative chuckle. “Yeah, but isn’t that kinda the point? The effort? Loving someone even when the odds are stacked against you?”

Shauna froze at that, staring straight ahead. Damn him. A flicker of something honest. At least he had some self-awareness. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost. And if keeping him in this chase meant she still got to write to Jackie, maybe it was worth it.

“...So, no book club?” Jeff asked after a beat, sheepish.

Shauna rolled her eyes and pushed harder on the pedals, leaving him gasping for air in her dust as he tried to catch up.

***

The next day, Shauna and Jeff were holed up in the AV booth. Shauna spun lazily in the rolling office chair, eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling, while Jeff fidgeted with the printing machine despite her very clear warnings to not touch it.

They’d agreed to take a break from the letters—though Shauna had one tucked away in her bag, burning a hole in her conscience—while they figured out their next move.

“I honestly don’t know how to recover from… whatever that was.” Shauna sighed, the defeat in her voice bouncing off the soundproof walls.

Even Jeff—usually a golden retriever in human form—didn’t try for optimism. He just slouched against the counter, chewing at his lip. That silence was almost worse than him talking.

“It was a fluke, sure,” he finally said. “But… not enough to just… stop everything, right?” His voice wavered, like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

The chair creaked beneath Shauna as she slowed her spin. The air in the booth suddenly felt heavier, pressing down.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But either way… we really screwed up with Jackie Taylor.”

But then again, the universe seemed determined to prove her wrong. Because the second those words left her mouth, a sharp pang echoed through the booth. Shauna flinched, reaching for her phone—probably Tai, or someone else demanding why she hadn’t turned in her essay.

Her screen lit up. And her eyes went wide.

“No way…” she whispered.

Jeff leaned over her shoulder, practically vibrating.

TaylorSwiftly: So… that was weird, right?

Jeff shot up and pumped a fist in the air. “Yes! There’s still a chance! I— we can do this, Shauna!” His grin stretched ear to ear.

Shauna, meanwhile, was already drowning in a rush of ideas, scenarios, plans. The spark of strategy overtook her usual restraint.

“I’ll pay you more,” Jeff blurted, interrupting his own victory lap. “I know you don’t do as many essays.”

She barely heard him. “You don’t have to pay me,” she murmured, eyes glued to the glowing message.

Jeff laughed, easy and oblivious. “Don’t be weird. Why else would you be doing this? Don’t worry, I’ve got the money.”

Shauna froze.

It hit like a slap. A cold reminder. Of course she was supposed to be doing this for the money. Anything else would be… foolish. Dangerous. Forcing her lips upward, she offered him what was technically a smile—but it landed closer to a grimace.

***

(Jackie POV)

Jackie hadn’t expected that text.

She was already accustomed to the distance of writing—the way that, even while they were working on that photo mural together, their paths never actually crossed. Though sometimes… she could swear she heard footsteps running off just as she arrived for her latest shoot. In those moments, she almost wanted to look, to catch Jeff lurking around the corner—

But she never did. Something always stopped her. Maybe it was that fragile charm the situation carried, and she didn’t want to break it. Until, finally, he seemed to have had enough and grew the actual guts to ask her out.

Jackie knew this moment was inevitable. It was usually the reason most people texted her in the first place. She was supposed to feel flattered, maybe even giddy at the attention. But she didn’t. Not when she knew most only wanted her for who she represented—and not for who she really was. It wasn’t like Jackie blamed them, not really. She was the one who chose what to show, what parts of herself to give away.

The grumble of Dylan’s motorbike made her cringe. Arms crossed, she watched him rev at the top of the dirt ramp. “Hey, Jackie! This is so sick—watch!” he shouted, before hurtling down, wobbling so close to disaster that the crowd gasped, only for him to steady at the last second. The cheerleaders twirled their hair and squealed like he’d just won a Nobel Prize.

Jackie should have felt jealous when really, she couldn’t care less.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and shifted on the log she was sitting on, deliberately keeping her distance. She’d already sacrificed her self-respect by agreeing to come; she wasn’t about to sacrifice her dress to the mud, too.

Her phone buzzed.

“[🍔🍟🥤+🍟] tonite? I have [🚚]! [😊]”

Jackie blinked at the screen. The first thing that crossed her mind was— why so many emojis? Don’t get her wrong, she liked a good wink or heart-face now and then, but this was… excessive. She had to double-check the sender, only to confirm it was, in fact, Jeff.

Eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at the message, fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. This seemed unusual from the Jeff she has gotten to know over the last two weeks. Did he mean it like a date? And if so, did Jackie really want to? Sharing correspondence rounds was one thing, but this…This could change everything. A yell interrupted her trail of doubts.

”Are you taking a pic? Make sure to take my good angle babe.” Dylan said as she tried some dumb trick. Jackie smiled forcefully and nodded tightly. 

Without thinking, she typed in her answer. 

***

She hesitated for the rest of the day, a mix of curiosity and fear of the unknown making her so uncomfortable that she missed a few of her passes during practice—enough to earn a stern twenty-minute lecture from Coach Martinez. The sight was pitiful enough that Coach Scott tried to smooth it over.

“Everything alright, Jackie?” he asked, hands on his hips, his expression tentative. He was the softer one, though he always seemed a bit uncomfortable tackling “teenage girl issues” outside of things like which cleats were best.

Jackie nodded, forcing herself to look extra focused as she gathered the cones—her “punishment” for being so out of it during drills.

“Sure thing , Coach! I promise it’s just a one-time thing.” She smiled. The practiced, polite kind of smile she had perfected since childhood.

He nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced.

By the time she made it to her frigid, empty home, her body ached with the kind of exhaustion that made you care about little next to nothing.

Taking advantage of her parents being out of town, she kicked off her muddied cleats, letting them drop to the floor—something that would have sent her mother into hysterics.

Her phone felt like it was burning in her pocket. Pouring herself a glass of water and grabbing a bag of popcorn out of the box, she dialed Lottie. It rang four times before someone finally picked up.  

Honestly, considering how often Lottie ignored her phone, Jackie was surprised it got answered at all.

“Sup, Jackie,” the blonde snorted, closing the fridge door with her hip.

“Sup, Jackie?” Jackie mocked back. “Someone’s been hanging around Nat too much.”

A huff followed. Jackie could practically see the pout on her friend’s face. “You called me to make fun of me or what?”

“Jeff asked me out on a date.” Jackie hesitated. “I think.”

“You think, or you know?” Lottie repeated, her voice almost cryptic.

Ugh. Jackie was already regretting this call. Adjusting the microwave settings, she shoved the bag inside.

“See, that’s the thing,” Jackie said, running a hand through her hair.

“I’m not sure. I mean, we’ve been tal—well, writing all this time. And now he’s there, in my DMs, and I don’t know—I didn’t see it coming. Not for a while, at least, and… I don’t know.” The microwave hummed to life, filling the silence. “I feel like I’m overthinking all this.”

There was a pause before Lottie spoke again. “Well, I think the real question you should be asking is—do you want to? Go on a date with him.”

It was so simple when Lottie put it like that. Do you want to go on a date—yes or no? It should’ve had an easy answer. But too many other factors crowded her mind.

For one, there was Dylan. It wasn’t like she was exactly single, even if the attraction she felt for him was next to nonexistent.

Even if he had no issue in flirting around with everything that had a pulse with no shame whatsoever.

But still—he was her “boyfriend”.And she doubted her parents would approve, either.

And then there was the bigger question: why now? What had changed? Jackie knew—maybe deep down—that this had been Jeff’s goal all along. But now… now it was real.

“It’s not that, Lot,” she finally admitted, leaning her elbows against the kitchen island, the sound of popcorn filling the silence of the house.

“The great thing about this was that it was just… easy, you know? Faceless. Just words and photos. It felt like—like I was finally talking to someone who didn’t see me as Jackie Taylor, senator’s daughter, prom queen, whatever. Just me.”

She sighed. Lottie stayed quiet, letting her spill.

“It didn’t matter if I sounded insecure, or nerdy, or… not polished. Somehow, it still felt like I was being understood.” Her voice trailed off, almost swallowed by the rhythmic popping in the microwave. “But if I do this—if I see him in person—then it’s real. And what if it’s not the same? What if it ruins it?”

The words were thick with doubt, her practiced cool slipping away. “Does that make me selfish?” she asked, softer, almost to herself.

Her chest tightened at the thought of Jeff stepping out of the safe, faceless box she’d kept him in.

And beneath that, deeper and sharper, was the question she didn’t dare name: What if it wasn’t him at all? What if what she craved—the ease, the comfort—was never really Jeff?

Jackie’s throat closed up. She shook her head quickly, forcing the thought down before it could surface. The sudden beeping of the microwave startled her, snapping the moment clean in two.

“You aren’t selfish for having doubts about all this, Jacks,” Lottie reassured softly, as if she could see straight into the chaos of Jackie’s mind. “It’s a lot—I get that. But maybe this could be a good thing. It doesn’t even have to be a date if that’s not what you want. This isn’t some donor gala our parents are forcing us into.”

Jackie hummed at that. It was true—Jeff hadn’t necessarily called it a date.

“Listen, from what I’ve heard, he seems pretty decent. Why not go, set the pace yourself, and see how it goes? If afterward you’re really not into it, then just move on and keep things the way they were.”

Humming again, Jackie carefully pulled the bag from the microwave, wincing at the heat before dumping it into a bowl. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.

Carrying the popcorn into the living room, she hesitated a moment before speaking.

“…Okay. What should I wear?”

Lottie let out a delighted squeal, launching into a ramble of outfit options.

***  

And that’s how she found herself on one of the most awkward non-dates she’d ever been on. And that was saying something—once Dylan had forced her to go camping with his family in the middle of fucking nowhere.

So yeah.

Jeff was mostly unresponsive throughout the evening. None of the witty banter or dorky sarcasm that had drawn her in was anywhere to be found. Every time Jackie tried to bring up or reference one of the many topics they’d gone over before, she felt dismissed—or worse, crazy. It was like Jeff had no idea what she was talking about, too busy staring into his milkshake to care.

For once, Jackie didn’t know how to approach him—not after the way they’d been talking. She feared that whatever small spell had existed between them was gone, and in that fear, her hesitations felt all too real.

The entire thing felt off, Jackie fidgeting in her seat, her usual day to day confidence not found until they finally parted ways

She couldn’t get it out of her head for the next couple of days, wondering if that was it. One afternoon, she was walking with part of the team after an extra practice—the season was just around the corner. The others glanced at her, but she didn’t notice.

“What’s up with you, Taylor? You haven’t been your perky little ray of sunshine self today,” Nat teased, hands tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket. Her grin was light, but her eyes were focused, as if genuinely concerned. Jackie could never tell. “Problems in paradise?”

The other conversations quieted; everyone seemed tuned in for an answer she wasn’t even sure she had.

“Dylan is—” Nat groaned, cutting her off.

“I’m not talking about that obnoxious brat you call boyfriend . What about your secret love writer?” The others perked up. “Haven’t seen you reading and grinning lately.”

“Oh, he’s…uh…he’s fine. We hung out yesterday.” She let it slip, too tired to be secretive. A few gasps and whistles followed.

“And? How was it?” Lottie asked. She had asked Jackie about it right after she returned home, but Jackie had refused to tell her anything.

“It was…fine.”

The blonde arched her brow. “Seriously? All that swooning for ‘fine’?”

Jackie’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t swoon , Scatorccio,” she hissed.

Van snorted. “Sure you don’t.”

It went on like that until most of the team drifted off to their respective houses, leaving only Jackie and Tai left.

Something caught Jackie’s attention from the corner of her eye. She squinted against the lowering sun, trying to make out the figures in the distance.

It was none other than Shauna Shipman, walking alongside Jeff Sadecki, who was trailing her with a few boxes in his arms. He seemed to be rambling about something, half-focused and nearly tripping over himself. Shauna looked only mildly interested, her mouth moving now and then to give a short reply.

The sight of them together felt… unusual.

Shauna had always been one of Wiskayok’s mysteries, even for Jackie—who prided herself on knowing practically everything about everyone in town. A loner, someone who slipped mostly unseen through the halls and the years.

Jackie liked to believe it was intentional, that Shauna wanted it that way. 

Because how else could someone like Shauna Shipman go unnoticed?

Shauna was smart. Probably Ivy League smart. She also had the kind of beauty that made you stare, like you’d missed something the first time and you have to look again. Not that she flaunted it—if anything, she seemed oblivious to it. Always in flannels, no matter the weather, a habit Jackie found oddly endearing.

But it wasn’t just that. Shauna seemed naturally talented in everything she touched—music, photography, even athletics. Jackie still remembered when Coach had practically begged her to join the team sophomore year after seeing her 100-meter sprint results. Shauna had refused, claiming she wasn’t “that into the sport.”

And yet, when she helped Jackie practice that one night, she’d moved like she’d been playing for years. Effortless. Frustratingly effortless despite the awkwardness. 

“I didn’t know Jeff and Shauna were friends.”

The mention made Tai’s shoulder stiffen almost imperceptibly—a shift Jackie didn’t catch.

Following her gaze, the midfielder stayed quiet for a beat before answering. “They’re neighbors. Live practically across from each other. Sometimes Shauna helps him with his… homework. Tutors him I think. I guess he’s just repaying the favor or something by helping her around.”

Jackie hummed, though her eyes lingered a little too long on. The sight of her with a notebook in her hands, her hair passing for auburn in the light and a concentrated almost pout her face— It made her curious. 

“Right… neighbors.” She repeated, though her tone landed closer to a question than a statement.

Jeff stumbled again, nearly losing a box, and Shauna—almost like she’d already predicted it—caught it with one hand, briefly scolding him before finally reaching the booth.

Jackie’s lips twitched, half amusement, half something else. She forced her gaze back to Jeff, trying to reconcile this version of him with the one from last night.

This Jeff seemed different—closer to the voice in her messages, that easy, faceless persona she’d let herself lean on. Her hand drifted to her collar without thinking, the heated metal of the heart pendant grounding her.

Maybe he had just been nervous. 

And if Shauna—of all people—chose to spend time with him, then he couldn’t be that bad, right?

Chapter Text

Shauna pushed the door open with more force than intended, letting it crash against the wall. She dropped the house keys into the ceramic pot on the coffee table with a clatter, Jeff trailing close behind

On the couch, her mom stirred. Still in her scrubs, half-asleep, Deb blinked blearily at the intrusion. “Shauna?” she murmured, voice thick with exhaustion.

Shauna flinched, she hadn’t seen her. “Sorry, Mom.”

Jeff gave a small, awkward wave. “Hi, Mrs. Shipman.”

Deb frowned faintly, confused—and Shauna couldn’t blame her. Besides the occasional visit from Tai or Van, she never brought anyone else home. Much less a boy.

“School project,” Shauna said quickly, already moving toward the basement door. “We’ll be downstairs.”

She didn’t give her mom the chance to ask more, slipping away before the inevitable sleepy interrogation could begin.

The stairs groaned beneath their steps. “Watch the second-to-last one,” Shauna muttered over her shoulder. “It’s wobbly. We, uh… haven’t fixed it yet.”

Jeff nodded, curiosity flickering across his face, but he didn’t comment.

The basement opened up wider than most expected: an unfinished but lived-in space with mismatched pieces—an old treadmill shoved against the wall, a ping pong table set up in the center, beanbags scattered near a small stack of boxes. Shauna crossed to a set of shelves beneath the narrow window, grabbing what she needed before turning back to him.

She handed Jeff a paddle, which he accepted like it might turn on him.

“When you invited me over, I was expecting… I don’t know, conspiracy charts plastered all over the walls,” he said, squinting around.

“Like you’re some kind of evil genius plotting in the shadows. Not… well, this.”

Shauna huffed, the sound echoing faintly in the half-lit room. Dust motes swirled lazily in the beam of late-afternoon light. She didn’t bother defending the space, just crossed to her side of the table and leveled him with a look.

“Yeah, well, we need to work on your conversation skills,” she said plainly. “Which—no offense—are about as strong as a seventh grader’s.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled. Jeff tilted his head, spinning the paddle in his hand. “And how exactly is ping pong supposed to fix that?”

Shauna didn’t bother answering. She set the ball and sent it cleanly across the table. Jeff flinched and barely managed to make contact, his return a wobbling mess that nearly smacked him in the face. He yelped in protest as Shauna rolled her eyes, easily recovering his pathetic shot and sending it back with precision.

“You need to focus. Pay attention. Relax. You looked like you were about to faint at dinner.”

“It wasn’t that bad…” Jeff muttered, puffing his cheeks.

Shauna shot him a look so dry it nearly cut the air. He deflated instantly.

“Believe me, it was. I almost walked out.” She emphasized, sharper than intended. And not just because watching him and Jackie in the same space made her skin crawl—

“You cut her off almost every time she tried to speak. And then said nothing anyways.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” he blurted, fumbling with the paddle. “I just—I don’t know…froze and—”

His swing went wide. The ball rolled off the table, unnoticed until it was already bouncing away.

Jeff blinked dumbly, then scrambled after it.

Shauna pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache blooming fast.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Most of the “devious planning,” as Jeff liked to call it, took place either in Shauna’s basement, the AV booth, or with Jeff jogging alongside Shauna’s bike in the mornings.

Shauna had put together a binder filled with everything she’d gathered about Jackie from the letters they’d exchanged over the weeks, and—reluctantly—did her best to drill some of it into Jeff’s head.

Why was Shauna helping a boy win over the girl she liked in the first place? That was the question Tai had planted in her head, the one that kept her awake at night before she inevitably got up the next morning and dragged herself into another “How to Romance Jackie Taylor 101” tutoring session with Jeff.

From cinematography and literature to niche philosophical theories and Taylor Swift lore—Shauna told him everything about what Jackie liked or hated.

She would show him neat maps, quiz him relentlessly, and fire off random questions to make sure he was actually learning, because outside of furniture techniques, Jeff’s attention span was next to zero.

But she admitted that sometimes he surprised her with thoughtful comments. She felt a quiet pride as he started to piece things together—not just memorizing, but actually understanding.

He began keeping up during the rides to and from school.

He did try. Every misstep was met with some type of sharp, hissed motivation.

“No, you’re confusing the characters,” she warned, pointing the pen at the makeshift board. “The three songs—‘August,’ ‘Betty,’ and ‘Cardigan’—aren’t all from Betty, who sings ‘Cardigan.’ James is the one who narrates Betty. The songs are different perspectives on the same story. It’s like… reading a story with three unreliable narrators. Now, explain the story to me.”

Jeff wrote it down, tongue poking out in concentration. “Okay, so… James, who sings ‘Betty’—” he began.

Shauna nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“He cheats on Betty, who sings ‘Cardigan.’ And then August sings about the summer love affair and how it was never meant to be anything more… because in the end James didn’t choose her, and instead he apologizes to Betty, realizing he regrets it and wants her back…” He flipped through the last pages, trailing off. “And Betty just… forgives him?”

Shauna nodded. His eyebrows shot up, his notebook slapping against his lap. “Why would she even take him back? He cheated on her the entire summer!”

Shauna shrugged. “That’s what people call ‘the other woman,’” she added.

He huffed. “Man, I feel bad for her. Watching how… a dude- well, someone you wanted, never saw you as the endgame but just a temporary thing… and all you can do is watch them go to the one they really wanted all along.”

Shauna glanced at him, letting the words settle in silence before shifting to the next lesson.

“I mean, if I were August, I wouldn’t have put up with his bullshit the entire summer,” Jeff huffed.

“Yeah, well… that’s people for you,” Shauna muttered, eyes fixed on the marker in her hand. “Sometimes it feels better to have something than… nothing at all. Even if you know how it’s going to end.”

Days fell into a strange sort of peace. Jeff became a fixture in the Shipman household—movie nights where he and Deb bickered over her film picks while Shauna sat wedged between them, pretending she didn’t enjoy the noise that filled the chasm between her and her mother. 

The credits rolled across the screen, the soft piano of Little Women filling the living room.

“I still think Jo and Laurie should’ve ended up together,” Jeff announced.

Shauna whipped her head toward him like he’d just committed a crime, popcorn in hand. Deb hid an amused smile, recognizing the glint in her daughter’s eyes and knowing a full-on debate was brewing.

“Well then, you’re totally missing the point. Jo isn’t just rejecting Laurie—she’s rejecting what being with him means. She’s chasing something bigger, something beyond romance.”

Jeff groaned dramatically, sliding lower into the couch. “Shauna, you so totally made that up.”

“I did not!” she shot back, eyes narrowing. “Did you even watch the movie? That was literally the whole point of the ‘women are capable of so much more than love’ monologue, you moron!”

“Still,” Jeff said with a smirk, “you’re overthinking it, like one of those nerdy AP classes you’re into. I’m just saying Laurie and Jo would’ve been better than Laurie and Amy—”

Shauna scoffed and, without hesitation, hurled a piece of popcorn at him. It bounced off his shoulder.

Jeff gasped, clutching his shirt like he’d been mortally wounded. “Oh, you did not just do that.”

He grabbed a fistful from the bowl and launched it back at her. Shauna looked at him.

Within seconds, all hell broke loose—Shauna shielding herself with a couch cushion before flinging it at his face, Jeff ducking low to toss back ammo with embarrassingly bad aim.

“And that right there is why your team hasn’t won a single game!” Shauna shot back.

From the recliner, Deb calmly reached forward, plucked the bowl out from between them, and cradled it safely in her lap.

“This,” she said with a small smile, “is exactly why I don’t share snacks with you two.”

Shauna and Jeff froze mid-throw, then both muttered, “He/ She started it,” in perfect unison, cheeks flushed as they pointed at each other like children.

Deb just shook her head, amused, before tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “You two are on cleaning duty later.”

They both started to protest. “But—”

One raised eyebrow from Deb was enough. Shoulders slumped, they gave identical responses:

“Yes, Mrs. Deb.”

“Yes, Mom.”

***

Most mornings he jogged beside her bike, his stride steadier with each week. The jagged wheeze of his breath softened into something almost conversational, a physical reminder of time slipping by.

Down in the basement, their rallies stretched longer before Jeff inevitably missed the small ball completely or launched it like a bullet. More than once Shauna had to duck, glaring daggers while Jeff choked back laughter, sheepishly retrieving the ball from under a box.

One evening, Shauna spread a detailed schedule across the basement wall, papers taped in neat rows like some kind of FBI investigation board.

“Now,” she said, tapping her pen against one of the notes. “There’s a lot we can not extract from the letters. Instead I suggest focusing in her diary life patterns, habits, preferences—if we’re careful, we can use them to—”

Jeff, slouched in the chair she’d basically forced him into, raised an eyebrow. “So you decided stalking was the best way to get information?”

Shauna froze, a faint flush creeping up her neck. Crossing her arms, she snapped, “It’s not stalking.” she huffed. “Think of it as… diligent research.”

He grinned. “Uh-huh. So stalking. Did know you had it in you Ship-”

“Shut up. And don’t call me that.”

Which was how they ended up trailing a careful distance behind Jackie after practices and school, tucked into Jeff’s car. Shauna kept muttering about “observational data,” though it didn’t stop Jeff from shooting her the occasional smug look she steadfastly ignored.

Their little “research missions” carried them all over town. From sitting a few rows behind in the theater, watching Jackie snort unexpectedly during a slasher’s most ridiculous jump scare, to tailing her down grocery aisles—where she studied avocados with surgical precision but avoided kiwis like they were radioactive (Even if they had to duck after Jeff almost knocked over a pack of soda cans.) and how she favored sweet over salty during lunch days at school.

Jeff had gotten better—way better. He could now keep the rally going without sending the ball ricocheting off the furnace, and his words didn’t tumble out in clumsy bursts anymore.

Conversation actually flowed slowly but surely, almost like the ball between them.

“So… how long have you lived in Wiskayok? Your mom was born here?” Jeff asked, tone steady, eyes focused.

Shauna shook her head. “No. My mom’s side is from Canada, actually.”

His brows lifted. “Canada? So you speak, uh… French?”

“A little…” she admitted. “Not as much as I’d like to. I only get to practice when we visit in the summer or during holidays.”

Jeff nodded, thoughtful, then asked, “And what about your dad?”

The ball nearly slipped past her paddle. She returned it a little too sharply, Jeff fumbling to catch it. The steady rhythm of their game suddenly felt like a ticking clock.

“He’s dead.” Shauna said flatly.

Jeff froze, hesitation flickering across his face. “…I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice softer than she expected. Almost… careful. “What was he like?”

“Funny. Kind... Dead.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Before he died.”

Shauna refused to let the words settle. She gave a quick shrug, eyes locked on the ball. Still, Jeff tried again. “Was he from here?”

“Yes,” she said after a beat, her throat tightening the way it always did. “He’s the reason my mom moved to the U.S. She always said he made her fall in love with the town. But ever since he’s been gone… well.” 

She keeps to herself how her mother barely goes outside unless work or grocery shopping. About how every empty street seemed to bring her some sort of hurtful memory.

Jeff nodded slowly. “I guess that’s what love does. Makes places… beautiful.”

Shauna let out a low hum, not trusting herself to dwell on the memory. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ball. “He had this… way of making the smallest, most ordinary things feel like they mattered,” she said quietly, as if reminding herself. “Showing the good side, even when…it was often overlooked.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Jeff’s expression softened. “He sounds pretty cool, then.”

“He is.” Shauna replied, her voice steady but thinner than usual.

***

During church, Shauna risked a glance in her direction. Jackie sat bathed in the pale light filtering through the stained glass, like some impossible figure who’d wandered out of a Renaissance painting and into the pews.

Shauna tried not to stare, tried to keep her eyes forward—until Jackie rolled her eyes at the sight of Dylan admiring himself in a pocket mirror.

The corner of Shauna’s mouth twitched. A quick, reckless idea flickered. She slid her phone from her pocket and opened their messages.

AntlerMonarch: “Mirror, mirror on the wall—am I the fairest princess of all?”

She watched it land. Jackie’s lips curved, teeth catching against them as she tried to hold back a laugh. Shauna’s heart stuttered, warmth blooming in her chest—until Jackie’s gaze lifted.

Not toward her. But him.

He blinked, startled to be the recipient of her smile, but returned it, hesitant and confused.

Shauna’s grin slipped away, the weight of realization sinking fast into her stomach. She forced herself to breathe, to swallow down the sharp twist inside, shoving every negative, ugly feeling into little boxes where she didn’t have to look at them twice.

Of course Jackie looked at Jeff—why wouldn’t she? Shauna was just the messenger, the third voice in a play who didn’t get a single line of the script. That was the point. That was the deal. She repeated it like a mantra, even as it soured on her tongue.

But later, when she sat in front of the board, the anger she’d caged slipped through the cracks. Her notes, once sharp and deliberate, hit with too much force, her pen dragging hard across the page.the  music losing its pacific rhythm and collapsing into something sharper.

***

The “recon mission” eventually spiraled into interrogating Dylan, who was far too flattered at being interviewed to suspect a thing.

Idiot.

“So, what would you say are Jackie’s views on modern ethical debates?” Shauna asked crisply.

“Does Jackie like meatloaf?” Jeff blurted at the exact same time.

Both turned, glaring at each other. Dylan blinked between them, slow as molasses.

Shauna plastered on a brittle smile, tugging Jeff aside. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be the bad cop.” She whispered.

Jeff muttered, “Why do I have to be the bad cop? You’re terrifying enough for the both of us—.”

She jabbed him in the chest with her pen. “Oh, I dont know, maybe because you’re the 5’11 man?”

“That’s sexist.”

Shauna stared at him, jaw dropping before shaking her head. Maybe she had taught him too well. “Just—shut up and follow my lead.”

They slid back into position on either side of Dylan’s convertible. He was already grinning like a moron, sunglasses halfway down his nose.

“So, like… why are you asking about Jackie? Oh, wait—I get it. You’re trying to scope out my range. Totally fair. I mean, she is a real babe. But hey, don’t worry, I totally get it.” He spread his arms like a king on his throne. “Honestly, you two even getting me for an interview? The Writer's Club must be losing their minds right now.”

Shauna and Jeff locked eyes, then let out the same, exhausted sigh.

***

The final act—probably the most borderline illegal—of their profiling was camping outside Jackie Taylor’s house. They watched her silhouette through the sheer curtains as she had dinner. 

From the way she sat—slightly stiff, posture rigid—Jackie didn’t look like she was having a great time. She wasn’t moving her hands animatedly like she did when a conversation truly drew her in. Instead, she kept her head bowed, fidgeting with the fork on her plate until even that motion stilled.

Silence stretched in the car afterward, heavy and worn, until Jeff finally broke it.

“Can I ask you something?”

Shauna, leaning against her hand, halfway dozing, sighed. “No, Jeff, I don’t want to install a sectional couch in the basement.”

“Why Wiskayok still?” he asked instead.

Shauna’s body went rigid. She turned to look at him, frown sharp, while Jeff fidgeted under the weight of her gaze.

“I mean, clearly your mom’s not happy here,” he said carefully, “and you don’t seem much different—”

Shauna’s hands shook as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I have to go. You’re clearly not taking this seriously.”

“What? No-Shauna, I just…-” His words tumbled over themselves. “You’re so smart, and I don’t know...”

But Shauna wasn’t listening. Her voice cracked low, bitter, slipping out before she could stop it. “Here I am, helping you win over a girl who’s clearly too good for you-”

Jeff flinched, his face flushing, anger and embarrassment tangled together.

“I just meant it seems weird for you to settle in a place like this—”

“You’re weird!” Shauna snapped, already shoving the door open.

“No! I mean…YES—” He panicked, voice chasing her into the dark as she stepped out. “I’m scared I’ll never make it into the business!”

That stopped her cold.

Jeff gripped the backrest of his seat like it was the only thing anchoring him, words spilling fast and unpolished.

“The truth is… my dad’s struggling to keep the store going. Which sucks, because I know it has potential. If they’d just—if they’d risk something, you know? I want to make new furniture, designs from Switzerland or wherever—partner with companies that care about ergonomic stuff—” His words broke into a frustrated laugh. “I have all these ideas all the time, but no one takes me seriously. Because—”

His voice cracked.

“Because why would they, right? I’m just some idiot eighteen-year-old who needs someone's help to even talk to the girl of his dreams. And it…it really bums me out because I am afraid that’s all I’ll ever be.”

He scoffed, but the sound was small, brittle. His hands twisted in his hair the way they always did when he was close to breaking.

Shauna, against her better judgment, finally turned back. His expression was unguarded, nothing but raw vulnerability, a hopeful glint in his eyes she recognized instantly. She let out a sharp breath and slid reluctantly back into the car. For a fleeting second, she hated him—because now she owed him something.

“My dad died when I was eight,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “Cancer. Caught too late to really do anything about it. He’d been sick for a long time. He tried chemo for a while, then he just…stopped.” Her mouth twitched bitterly.

“I think-...well, know that he made that decision because he didn’t want me to see him like that. My mom won’t admit it—she says it was just his choice and there was no changing it once it got in his mind. But really? I think she just doesn’t want me to blame myself.” A short, humorless scoff escaped her.

“…Do you?” Jeff asked carefully.

Her gaze flicked away. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “Either that, or I just…blame everything. All of it. That’s probably why I didn’t have many friends after. I suddenly ran out of words… and resorted to other things. Like biting Randy’s arm during recess.”

A long silence followed with a small chuckle.

“I mean,” Jeff said eventually, “he was a pretty annoying kid when we were little.”

Shauna gave him a sideways look. “Isn’t he, like, your best friend or something?”

Jeff shrugged. “Yeah. Which gives me the right to humble him when needed.”

That earned the faintest smile from her. With a sigh, she leaned back against the seat. Neither of them spoke as Jeff started the car, the quiet stretching between them. Shauna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She held her breath when she saw the now-familiar usernames.

TS: Night kinda weirds me out.

Everything seems so still. Quiet.

AM: I kinda like it. Especially night drives.

Gives you a certain perspective, I think.

TS: Oh? How so?

AM:Everyone is asleep or silent.

Less distractions. It makes more

for thoughts.

TS: And secrets?

Shauna bit her lip, tapping the corner of her phone.

AM:Sometimes especially those.

TS: So mysterious. What kind of secrets?”

AM: The kind that might be too much to handle.

With that, Shauna shut the phone and shoved it back into her pocket. She rested her arm against the door, eyes tracing the rhythm of streetlights and passing cars. The cracked window let in the cool night air, brushing loose strands of hair across her face. The moon hung high—bright, but not enough to drown out the scattered stars.

Shauna wondered if Jackie was watching them too.

Chapter Text

Time finally ran out. It had been almost two weeks of constant preparation for the second date. That very fact was engraved in Shauna’s brain, setting her whole system on fire with contradiction. Did she want it to go great? Or would she rather claw her eyes out if the date did go great…? 

It wouldn’t be that far-fetched, Shauna supposed. Jeff was admittedly a good-looking guy, Jackie was a pretty girl…the story practically wrote itself.

She glanced at Jeff, who was absentmindedly tossing a ball against the wall, catching it again as he sprawled across the puff. The fairy lights and old Christmas strands they strung up to brighten the basement bathed the space in a soft glow.

“What do you like about Jackie Taylor?” Shauna asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. It seemed like an easy question–or a complicated one, depending on who you asked. A question she’d never really voiced until now.

Jeff fumbled, the ball slipping through his hands and rolling off somewhere out of sight. His blue eyes widened slightly, his body tensing. No matter how much progress he’d made, some habits were hard to shake.

“Well, uh…she’s pretty, smart, and nice. She’s never mean, and she’s just… Well, she’s Jackie. Why do you ask?”

Shauna sighed, fingers tugging at a loose thread on her green flannel, one button hanging slightly undone. “Just curious. We never really talked about it.”

“Yeah, I think it’s kinda self-explanatory. Why else would I like her?”

Shauna kept pulling absently at the button. “I don’t know… Maybe it’s the way her eyes seem to change color with the light…like crystals that reflect into an endless stream of shades like a kaleidoscope. The way she furrows her nose and slightly pouts when she is clearly upset with something but refuses to say what.” Shauna smiles a bit to herself, stuck in the memories. 

“Or how her laugh sounds when she tips her head back—not the polished one she uses with Dylan or the other popular kids, but the real one, the one that makes her dimples show because she’s not worrying about who’s watching. The way she knows when to push someone’s boundaries—not to judge them, but to help them. As if she truly…truly sees you–”

Her lips curved slightly at the memory, though she didn’t quite realize it until she looked up to see a dumbfounded Jeff gawking at her. It’s then when she froze, the button coming loose when she stands and falling to the ground. 

“I’m such a fucking idiot” Jeff muttered.

Shauna’s blood went cold. Her stomach dropped—she realized, too late, that she had said too much. And the way Jeff was looking at her now—like he’d figured something out that couldn’t happen. If it happened, everything would be over.

“Or—or something like that,” she stumbled, words spilling uselessly as her hands tightened in her lap. Stop it. Stop talking. You’re not helping.

“How could I have been so stupid?” Jeff repeated, his voice breaking as panic edged in. He sat up, running his hands through his hair like he was trying to tear the thoughts out. “What you just said…that’s something you only say when you’re in love.”

“NO!” The word tore out of her, louder than she meant, and she lurched as if to bolt from her seat. Every nerve in her body was on fire. He couldn’t know. No one could know. “That’s not—it’s not like that—”

“Yes it is!” Jeff shot back, standing, his chest rising and falling fast. “And you don’t even care! I’m in love with her, and I can’t even—ugh!” He groaned, gripping his hair, pacing in a tight circle.

The sharp whistle in Shauna’s ears finally broke, replaced by the ragged sound of her own breathing. Relief shuddered through her, weak but real. He didn’t know. Not really.

Their eyes met for a fleeting second, two separate storms,  and then, almost simultaneously, their legs gave out, dropping them both back into the beanbags. Neither said a word. Each of them was drowning, but in completely different seas.

Shauna looked at him—really tried to. He was clearly out of his depth, scrambling to catch up to someone who seemed too far away. But…

“But you try. Harder than I’ve ever seen anyone in our high school. Which, yeah, maybe isn’t saying a lot, but…it reminds me of the way my dad tried, you know?” she admitted, her gaze drifting around the room. “And besides…as someone once said, ‘Isn’t that kinda the point? The effort?’”

Jeff’s eyes widened slightly in recognition. Then, finally, a tentative smile cracked through, the light flickering back into him. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

Shauna nodded, then forced a casual shrug. “I mean, I was bound to remember one of the only sensible things you’ve ever said—”

Jeff scoffed but laughed. “Jerk.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “Thanks. You know…you could make someone very happy, if you ever stopped acting like a self-proclaimed lone wolf—”

He didn’t get to finish. Shauna nailed him square in the face with the ball he’d dropped earlier.

Later that day, they found themselves in another movie night. Jeff sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the TV, while Deb and Shauna claimed their usual spots on the couch.

Shauna glanced at Jeff, laughing at something with his mom, the blue glow of the screen lighting their faces. As confused as she’d been at first, even her mom had grown a soft spot for him. Shauna supposed that was just Jeff’s thing—the kind of “kicked puppy energy” people couldn’t help but take in.

Shauna groaned when she caught a glimpse of the TV. “Oh, let me guess—he’s gonna run after the train…” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Almost immediately, her mom hushed her with a whisper about “the best moment.”

When Shauna glanced at Jeff, he was leaning forward, far too invested in what she could only describe as foolish writing. She said nothing at first, just watched as the disheveled love interest—with tousled hair and his shirt inexplicably half undone—sprinted through the station.

“Don’t… don’t—ugh,” she groaned, throwing her head back.

“I think it’s sweet,” Jeff said, hugging a pillow to his chest.

“It’s dumb.”

“It shows he cares.” Jeff defended, earning a hum of agreement from Deb. Shauna shot her mom a look of betrayal but pressed on.

“It shows he’s a moron. How can he even outrun a train? It’s already too late. Done. He missed his chance. The least he could do is accept the consequences instead of pretending he’s some kind of hero.” 

Shauna’s voice picked up heat without her quite meaning it to. It was just a movie–just a scene–so why did it rile her up this much? “Honestly, I bet the girl’s just relieved she’s finally rid of him. Finally free of her suffocating little life.”

Jeff tilted his head, eyes flicking back to the screen. “I don’t know about that…” he murmured as the shot lingered on the girl, her eyes brimming with tears. “She looks sad about it.”

“If she was, she could stop the train” Shauna argued.

“Could she?” Deb interjected at last, her voice thoughtful as she joined their small debate. “Sometimes we’re too afraid to do what we want… because of everything that comes with it. We tell ourselves moving on is the smarter choice, maybe even the kinder one, for us, for everyone. But really, it’s just fear holding us back.”

Shauna swallowed, her voice quieter when she asked, “Fear of what?”

Deb’s eyes stayed on the screen. “Opening yourself up to a kind of happiness you can’t control. The kind that might not last forever.”

The words settled heavy in Shauna’s chest, pressing on everything she’d been trying not to think about. The kind that could hold so many meanings. She shifted, stealing a glance at Jeff, who seemed entirely absorbed by the movie.

He was a pretty nice person. Funny. Willing to listen, even if he didn’t always understand. Solid. Loyal. Better than any of the douchebags in this town. Definitely better than her current boyfriend. Maybe he could even be good for Jackie. Maybe he’d learned enough to be the kind of guy Jackie needed….the kind she deserved.

Unlike Dylan. Dylan, who would probably hook up with his own clone if given the chance. Dylan, who’d cheated on Jackie more than once and somehow always managed to crawl back into her forgiveness.

The ache in her chest sharpened. Deb’s words echoed again, too close, too true. Before she could talk herself out of it, Shauna pulled out her phone. She opened the chat, the conversation right where they’d left it. Her thumb hovered, then moved almost on its own.

AM: No secrets. Just a nice guy and… you should be with a nice guy.

She hit send, locked the screen before an answer could appear, and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

Her chest ached, but she forced herself to ignore it.

Later that night, Shauna lay restless in her bed, staring at the slanted ceiling of the attic. It wasn’t exactly big, but she remembered how much she’d begged her parents to let her have it as a room. Her father, like most times, had indulged her—on the condition that she help with the setup.

The “help” had only ever meant moving a few small pieces of furniture and picking out good vinyl records to play while he worked.

Her gaze drifted to the wall beside her bed, where faint notches marked her height over the years. Her father had insisted on tracking it, carving each line himself until… well, until he couldn’t anymore. The marks stopped when she was nine, when she’d tried to continue the tradition herself. The cut was shallow, shaky—she hadn’t been strong enough to press the blade in properly.

From the corner of her eye, her attention caught on a case propped beside the wardrobe. Her father’s guitar. She almost never touched it, too afraid she might damage it somehow. Anger held her back most of the time from reaching it. But tonight, something in her stirred.

Carefully, she unlatched the case and lifted the lid. The guitar wasn’t anything extraordinary, but no other instrument felt the way this one did in her hands.

She ran her fingers over the strings without strumming, wincing at the soft metallic hum they gave back. They still seemed mostly fine, just a little rusted. She’d need to change them soon.

Sliding the strap over her shoulder, she lifted it and settled back on the bed, the guitar resting awkwardly in her lap. It still felt too big somehow, as if it knew she wasn’t its true owner. For a moment, she almost shut it away again.

Then her thumb brushed a chord—simple, imperfect, but alive in the quiet attic. Even though she played in the school choir sometimes, here she felt seven again, hands clumsy and uncertain… until the sound steadied.

Her throat tightened as the melody of a song she’d once written with her dad filled the room. But this time, it didn’t hurt as much. Instead, it reminded her that he had been here, once—real, alive, beside her. She even dared to sing softly under her breath.

She was so focused, she didn’t notice her mom leaning on the door frame, eyes shining with tears under the soft glow of fairy lights strung across the room. Her stance was weary, yet held together by something steady and unseen.

“It’s been a while,” Deb whispered. It wasn’t much, Dad used to be the glue in the family before he passed, and after that they both…sort of drifted.Shauna knew exactly what she meant.

“It has,” she murmured back.

What Shauna didn’t know was that she had another audience. Outside, Jeff had been aimlessly tossing scraps of wood until the faint notes drifted through her open window. He froze, swallowing hard, caught off guard by the sound—and by the silhouette framed against the curtain.

***

There they were again. Shauna hurried into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“Sorry… got intercepted by Mr. Robins. He always leaves everything for the last minute I swear, and today he made me stay to finish all the damned copies for the flyers about the talent sh—” She cut herself off mid-ramble, tugging off her red flannel before briefly giving up to redirect towards her half opened back and shoving something towards Jeff. 

He blinked, backing away to see what it was. Flowers. “Oh, uh-” he mumbled, craning his neck in confusion. “I know it’s a special night, but you didn’t have to.”

Shauna looked at him straight in his clueless eyes, deadpanned. That look he knew meant something along the lines “You have to be doing this on purpose.”

“They’re for Jackie, you oaf.”

Jeff chuckled awkwardly, grabbing them. “Oh, yeah—that makes sense that you got, uh…” He stared at the arrangement of reds, oranges, and crimson ruffled, papery petals, entirely clueless.

“Poppies, Jeff,” she snarked, the sudden cold in her eyes chilling the car. “Jackie likes poppies.”

He nodded, gripping them more firmly—enough for Shauna to briefly worry he might break them. They were fragile flowers, after all. They looked even more so in his large hands.

“Okay,” she continued, exhaling, trying to move past the sudden pang of anger, “if Jackie asks about the funding…-jesus, turn off the stupid heating seat I’m burning over here—... for the women’s Nationals team, remember that-”

Jeff, who is now looking straight ahead with an unfamiliar serious look nods.  “I know.”

“Well, fine. If you have doubts, just avoid names of the president’s confederation and…-” Her flannel gets half stuck and she struggles to remove it. 

“Hey.” 

She tugs, the final button comes free and she finally slips it off, leaving it on the head rest before releasing a heavy sigh. She looks at Jeff from the corner of her eyes.

“Thanks.” He says, looking at her. Shauna nods, getting it. “Yeah uh…sure.”

“I’m probably going to crush and burn.” He starts with a small laugh. “But at least now I want a chance. So thanks for sticking around and giving it to me.”

Shuffling on the seat, Shauna feels a bit out of place at seeing such honesty. It makes her almost forget the reason why she even started helping him. Almost.

“You are not going to crash and burn…” She starts weakly, “Just be yourself. You got it. And it’s not like you didn’t pay me, so.” She shrugs, not used to giving reassurance but Jeff seems to have enough. He nods, watching as Jackie already enters the dinner. 

As he gets out of the car, he gives her a thumbs up. Shauna returns it, hoping she isn’t grimacing too much. 

And here she is again. In the seat right across from the window inside the diner, with Jackie and Jeff awkwardly sitting in front of each other. A specter, like something out of one of her books. That’s all Shauna ever seemed to be.

Jeff practically shoves the bouquet at Jackie as soon as he sits in front of her, flustered, as if he were the one who had made sure every flower was nothing short of perfect. As if he were the one who’d argued with the florist over the exact arrangement of colors.

Shauna sighs, shaking her head. This wasn’t the time. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the scene in front of her—though some masochistic part of her couldn’t help picturing herself in his place. 

She imagined Jackie’s eyes lighting up at her instead, feeling the phantom brush of Jackie’s fingers against hers as she took the bouquet. The thought made her heart stutter and ache all at once.

The poppies suited Jackie almost too well. Their vivid reds set against the cool tones of her polo shirt only made the faint flush on her cheeks stand out brighter, like the flowers themselves had conspired to expose her beauty.

It goes downhill from there on-

Jackie opens her mouth, and Jeff loses it already. Shauna grunts under her breath in hopelessness. 

“C’mon, Jeff, we’ve been over this-”

“The reform of the president on women’s football in the national team is, uh… it’s very good,” he blurts out, slightly startling Jackie. Jackie, who was wearing a similar outfit to last time, made it difficult for even Shauna to actually focus.

“Yeah, it is.” She chuckles a bit. Jeff nods immediately, then looks down at his lap before shaking his head.

“Sorry, I interrupted you- you were saying?” he tried sheepishly. The diner is busy tonight, the ambient noise doing little to distract Jeff from how he felt like puking.

She smiles a bit. “Oh, nothing, just that we don’t need to be talking about serious things.” She reassures him, as if sensing the pressure threatening to crush him. Knowing Jackie, she probably did. “I mean, it’s cool that we’re still friends.”

Oh yeah, he’s done for, Shauna thinks as she watches Jeff trying to swallow his defeated puppy face.

“Yeah, totally. Friends…heh,” he repeats awkwardly. And Shauna can physically see all the progress, all the evenings and mornings spent doing drills, conversation practices, and stakeouts– go straight down the drain. It feels like she’s failing, and so, she pulls her phone out before really thinking about it.

AM: Sorry, I get nervous when you are near

Jackie catches the notification of her phone, eyebrows furrowing before moving it into her lap.

“You texted me?” She asks, slightly amused. Jeff, who looks just as confused for a brief moment, connects the dots before sneakily grabbing his phone without her noticing.

“Oh, um… yes?”

When Jackie glanced back down at her phone, Jeff shot Shauna a completely dumbfounded look, mouthing what Shauna was pretty sure was a “What are you doing?!”

She glared at him, jabbing a finger toward his own phone. “Look back, idiot.” She mouthed back.

He did.

SS: Just pretend you’re on your phone

Shauna quickly switched chats.

TS: I’m just a girl, y’know

Shauna hummed under her breath. There is no universe where Jackie Taylor is “just a girl.”

AM: You’re not just a girl.

TS: That so? Then what are you?

Her thumb tapped the corner of the phone.

AM: Also not just a girl?

It was the truth—sort of. In her own twisted way.

Jackie snorted, bright and light, tossing Jeff a smile. He shrugged back with that boyish dumb grin of his, forced but charming enough to work. Shauna watched with a knot in her chest, the sting sharp and familiar. Another laugh she’d caused….but not for her.

TS: You’re weird. But cute.

Shauna flushed, heat rising in her cheeks. Pathetic. She knew it, and she hated that she believed Jackie anyway.

AM: Thanks. You have really symmetrical features. And a nice bone structure.

She winced at her own words, but sent them anyway. When she peeked up, she caught the tiny curl of Jackie’s lip, just enough to sweep away any last shred of doubt.

Shauna hesitated, thumbs trembling.

AM: You are…

No. Delete.

AM: I think you’re so…

Delete.

Her chest tightened.

AM: What I’m trying to say—

She stopped again. There were so many things she could say about Jackie, things that lived like fire under her skin and ached in between her ribs—but her mind had gone numb. And maybe she’d judged Jeff too harshly before, because she was trying so hard it looked effortless in comparison.

She didn’t even notice the shift beside her, the way Jeff was starting to grow impatient: restless enough to do something reckless. Suddenly, he stood up, cheeks flushed, his hands curling into nervous fists.

What the hell is he doing –Jesus, Jeff. Shauna panicked, fumbling to text him to stop before he humiliated himself. But if there was one thing she and Jeff shared, it was stubbornness. He wasn’t going to relent.

“I don’t want to just be friends!” he blurted out.

The room froze. Almost everyone turned to stare at him. Jackie’s hazel eyes widened slightly, her phone forgotten in her lap.

“Oh. Um…” Her gaze darted around, awkward and embarrassed at being put on the spot. Finally, they settled on Jeff’s: bright, watery, and desperate.

He swallowed hard, shoving a hand through his carefully styled hair, mussing it like it hadn’t taken him an hour to get it right. Shauna could only watch, heart jammed in her throat, threatening to choke her.

“I think you’re nice, kind, and smart. And that your eyes, they’re like a thousand crystals, or…or endless shades —” His words tangled, frustration rising as he failed to shape what he really wanted to say. Finally, he gave up with a shaky exhale. “I just really like you.”

Silence crawled in after that, awkward and suffocating. The world seemed to tilt back into motion as others cautiously returned to their own conversations.

Jackie blinked at him, her expression bewildered. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again—searching for something. “I…-I don’t know what to say,” she admitted softly, as though even she was caught off guard by her own uncertainty.

The adrenaline drained from Jeff all at once. He collapsed back into his seat with a defeated breath. “Yeah, me neither. I’m not good with words.”

Jackie looked at him, a small smile flickering across her face: soft, but bright enough to light up the whole room and your very soul.

“That's okay.”

Jeff, who had been staring at his lap, looked up with a flicker of hope. Slowly, he placed his hand on the table. Jackie hesitated, then reached for it. Their fingers laced together, tentative but sure.

Shauna shot to her feet, nearly stumbling as the dizziness hit her. The door banged lightly as she shoved it open, her Converse slapping against the pavement. She needs to get away from that car. The cool air rushed into her lungs like knives. She felt sick, her stomach turning so violently she feared she’d throw up right there in the abandoned parking lot. Every breath hurts.

Her work was done. She was no longer needed. Jeff got what he wanted. What Shauna wanted too, right? For Jackie to be with someone nice. Someone safe. Someone who would care for her. That’s all she wanted out of this—for Jackie to have a chance with someone she could rely on. Even if it couldn’t include her.

It’s fine. This was the plan all along. She repeated it over and over again, like a mantra carefully designed to keep her from unraveling at the seams.

So why did it feel like something inside her was tearing itself apart?

The blur in her eyes made it hard to see, but she didn’t need sight. Her legs buckled for a second, nearly throwing her off balance, but instinct and memory carried her down the familiar streets. She didn’t even realize she’d pressed the doorbell until the sound rang out, sharp in the quiet night.

Darkness stretched across the suburban street, broken only by the faint glow of the streetlights.

“Shauna?” Tai’s voice came, groggy, confused. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her sleepwear wrinkled. She rubbed her eyes, then froze when she saw Shauna clearly. “What are you doing here? It’s late–Shauna?” she repeated, worry sharpening her tone.

“I did it, Tai.” Shauna let out a wet, shaky laugh, swiping angrily at her eyes as if she could push the tears back in. “I did it.”

And Tai, her best friend who moved through life with careful, tactical precision—just stepped forward and pulled her in. She tried to soothe the broken brown eyes that had gone dull, the ragged breaths that ended in hiccups. Because she understood. 

“I wanted it to be me.” The words broke out of her in a sob, each breath collapsing against her rib cage as if it couldn’t hold her together anymore. 

The shameful admission slipped into the night, torn from the box where she had kept it buried all this time. It fell from her lips like a forbidden prayer—one that carried the power to deliver the final blow.

Taissa didn’t try to fix it, didn’t try to say anything to make it better. Not yet. She simply held on as Shauna’s sobs broke free, heartache spilling into the fabric of her shirt.

Chapter Text

The air smelled of old fabric, worn leather, and that unmistakable scent of clothes that had spent too long boxed away.

Occasionally, the bell over the door rang, breaking the spell of silence—aside from the drifting music of some underground American rock band playing faintly in the background.

Shauna swiped through the racks, her mind already numbing under the harsh LED lights and the thousands of items brushing beneath her fingertips, metal hangers clinking before being left to rest again.

Jeff, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life. “Would you look at that! Sadecki rounds second, heading for third—safe! He secured the perfect second date ladies and gentlemen!” he cheered, slapping the shoulder of a yellowed mannequin as if it were a teammate waiting on the base path.

The mannequin wobbled dangerously, and he scrambled to steady it back into place, laughing at himself despite the middle-aged department employee looking at him with nothing but judgment.

“And now…his best uh-girl dude will rock the talent show!” he added, a ridiculous grin plastered across his face. 

Shauna cringed, murmuring, “How many times have I told you not to call me that?” before picking a random jacket, not bothering to give him a second glance as she slipped it on.

“I’m telling you, Shauna, God is grinning at us from his heavenly sofa.” He slid smoothly to the end of the hall, where Shauna grabbed some pants.

She had no clue what she was doing, but she didn’t seem to care either.

“It’s just a guitar solo and some singing-” she defends.

“So? It’ll be awesome.” He grins.

Shauna sighs, tugging at some strange scarf. The person who gave this up clearly did not do the world a favor.

“Yeah, along with me puking all over the second row.”

“Don’t you play in the school band? How is this any different?”

“The difference,” Shauna emphasizes, as she moves to another section, “is that this time I won’t have literally another forty kids to share the spotlight with. No one pays me any mind in those.”

Jeff frowned as Shauna turned around, half-dressed in a pathetic attempt at assembling an outfit, but she definitely looked like she had given up in the middle of it.

Jeff stared at her, lifting an eyebrow. “So…are we going with that?”

Shauna frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

Jeff scoffs. “What’s not wrong with it, you mean?”

She flips him off. He shows his palms in defense.

“Well, for starters, you gotta ditch the flannel. Also, the skirt is so out of place with those boots. And why would you wear that vest? It’s not your color.”

He hums, turning to do a 360 with nothing but judgment in his eyes.

Shauna doesn’t know whether to be insulted or slightly impressed by his apparent knowledge.

“How do you know about this stuff? You’re a guy,” Shauna huffs defensively, though she knows he’s not entirely wrong. She’s never been one of those fashion-icon girls—never really learned what matches with what, how to style her hair, or do makeup.

She’s always been more on the tomboy side, and as she grew older, she was too ashamed to start learning on her own. 

But Jeff didn’t have to bring up her insecurities like that.

“Maybe. But I have sisters. Go in the changing room, I’ll throw you some things.”

They stand there for a few seconds. Some guy, who was eyeing a beat-up leather jacket, sneezes near them.

Shauna catches a glimpse of the clock on the faded wall.

She can’t spend her entire day here.

“Fine.” She relents, storming off while Jeff happily picks up some things.

***

The next few hours were excruciating.

Shauna was left to her own devices to get things ready for the talent show—and to question every life decision she’d ever made. She ended up doing more of the latter.

Her mind kept circling back to that night she’d shown up at Tai’s doorstep: a messy, heartbroken wreck. She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour, no matter how much Tai freaked out.

And when she finally calmed down enough for Tai to ask what had actually happened, she just… shut down.

Her walls rose, ironclad and impenetrable. The shame of being seen like that was almost as bad as the truth of what haunted her.

Other than confirming that she was “fine” (at least physically), she gave her little next to nothing.

Eventually, Tai gave up pressing and just put on a movie, doing her best to keep her company.

By the next morning, Shauna slipped out of the house like some cliché walk of shame, leaving nothing but a note: I’m fine. Gotta get home before Mom notices I didn’t spend the night.

She knew Tai would hate it.

But it was all she could manage, not brave enough to relieve it over again.

That’s who she was. A coward.

Someone who gave someone else the chance to be loved by Jackie Taylor while she hid pathetically in the shadows.

She reached for her journal, only to stop mid-motion. Even the stupid thing wasn’t helping anymore.

She needed to get some of it out before it consumed her.

That’s why she scrambled for a blank sheet of paper, gripping her favorite pen until the tip hovered, trembling.

For once, she would be honest. Completely honest.

She would write for Jackie—not hidden behind a boy’s name. She’d pour every regret, every want, every raw thought onto the page.

And then do some dramatic bullshit like burn it outside her house or something. Watch the flames turn her shame to ash.

Maybe then the pressure inside her chest would be reduced to ashes too.

Dear Jackie,

My name is Shauna Shipman. Not Jefferson Sadecki.

I’m not 5’11, blonde, or blue-eyed. I don’t drive a steel gray Nissan or play for the baseball team. I’m 5’5, brunette, brown-eyed. I drive an old minivan and I’m the school’s photographer.

I guess you already know all those things.

Maybe just not in the way you thought when reading this particular one. If you ever read it, which you’ll probably never will. But I… wouldn't blame you if you didn’t. 

I know there are a few choice words you might be thinking now, after realizing I wasn’t honest about who I was.

Honesty has never been something I was able to give you. 

Maybe the only thing I couldn’t, even when I gave you everything else I had.

But I need you to know this: every single word I wrote; every thought, every small or fractured piece of me on those pages-was true. That’s never been in question-

The door burst open, making Shauna jolt in her chair. She barely caught her wrist before her hand could smear across the page.

Whipping around, she found Jeff Sadecki barreling into her room.

“Yo, Shauna, you ready or what? What are you even writing? We’ll be late if we don’t go—”

Her whole body snapped into panic. She folded the paper in half so fast it crumpled, shoving it deep into the bag with the clothes she bought earlier in panic.

Zipping it shut, she spun toward him.

“What the hell, Jeff?! You can’t just waltz into my room like that—you almost gave me a heart attack!” She snapped.

Jeff only shrugged. “I called you twice, you didn’t answer. Can we go now? I wanna get a seat next to Jackie and—”

His voice trailed off into the hallway as he kept rambling, Shauna groaning under her breath before following him out.

Graduation couldn’t come soon enough.

***

After accepting a ride from Jeff (more like having no other choice, Shauna couldn't wait for her car to be fixed)

Shauna rushed through the high school walls, buzzing with the energy of hundreds of students talking about the show.

The air felt thick with sweat, cheap perfume, and nerves. Her stomach felt like it was fighting itself from the inside out, she hadn't even eaten anything afraid that she might actually puke.

Her hands stayed clammy the whole day, fingertips sticking to the worn strap of her guitar case as she fidgeted with it. She rubbed them against her jeans, again and again, but the sweat always came back.

Every class blurred together; every recess was spent ducking glances and avoiding a certain someone.

But if Shauna could define Taissa Turner with one single word, it would be persistent.

So it was only a matter of time.

The school day ended, the halls thinning and the chaos quieting, but the seniors remained to prepare.

Families started to gather on the doors, their chatter waving gently in the air.

Shauna was pushing toward the backstage when a voice broke. 

“Shauna, Shauna—wait!”

She hissed, weaving into the crowd.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed like they were mocking her, and the chatter around her felt like static in her ears.

As she went further into backstage, the air smelled more of dust and plastic, the light and direction crew floundering around like bees.

“I’m going fourth, Tai, can’t talk right now.” The words tumbled out fast, thin, pathetic. She didn’t dare turn around.

Then a blur of red cut her vision—Van, arms spread as if intercepting a goal, blocking her stride.

She smelled faintly of popcorn and deodorant, close enough that Shauna could feel the heat radiating off her.

Shauna huffed. That was cheating.

“Move, Van.” Her attempt at authority came out more like a reluctant whine. “You’re supposed to be my friend, traitor.”

“Sorry, Ship. My loyalties lie with my girl.” Van grinned, stepping aside just as Tai appeared at her shoulder.

Shauna sighed, her chest sinking. She could already feel the lecture coming, the one she really didn’t have the strength for.

“Shauna,” Tai said, her voice low but steady. Unrelenting, like always.  “C’mon. Talk to me.”

“Talk about what?” Shauna asked, forcing her eyes wide in mock innocence. But her big brown eyes had no effect on Tai—not today.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tai replied, arms crossing, her posture stiff and unyielding.

“Maybe about how you showed up at my house last night sobbing? Or about how I heard you cry yourself to sleep. Or how, when I woke up, you were already gone and MIA all day?”

The dark, ample space seemed to shrink around them.

Shauna’s ears burned hot, her mind scrambling for excuses that didn’t even sound believable to herself.

She hated how easily Tai could strip her bare.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Tai? That you were right? Fine. You were.” The words burst out, and Shauna crossed her arms without thinking.

She had both a hoodie and a flannel on, yet she felt cold to the bone. She couldn’t even bring herself to meet the pity in Tai’s eyes.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, her throat tight as she shrugged. “It’s over. It was a fluke, and…” Her voice cracked as she looked away, her left hand rubbing anxiously up and down her arm.

“It meant nothing. I just want to move on and forget about it—”

“It’s clearly not nothing, Shauna.” Tai’s voice sharpened, frustration creeping in. “You’re in pain, and pretending it doesn’t exist won’t make it go away.”

Of course Tai would say that. She always faced things head-on.

Shauna envied her for it.

Envied and even resented.

“Just… drop it, Tai. Okay? Please.” Shauna’s shoulders slumped, the plea tasting sour on her tongue. She turned, her boots thudding dully against the wooden floor. “I should go change. See you later at your game and uh– good luck.”

And before Tai could answer, Shauna was gone—swallowed by the hallway’s restless buzz, leaving Tai standing alone, her eyes fixed on the space where her best friend had disappeared.

Van drifted to her side, slipping a reassuring hand around her waist. “It’s okay. She’ll come around.”

Her words were soft, but Tai felt anything but soothed. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, exhaling hard.

“I don’t know if she will this time. I knew… I knew she always had this crush on Jackie—” she stopped, her voice low with guilt.

“But I think it’s so much more than that. And… goddammit, if I’d seen it sooner, maybe I could’ve stopped her.”

Van’s thumb traced gentle circles against her side.

“Hey, hey. Don’t do that. None of this is on you. These things aren’t exactly… well, logical.”

She turned Tai to face her, sliding her hand down to lace their fingers together.

Tai finally breathed, tension easing the smallest bit.

“And who knows,” Van murmured, a small smile tugging her lips, “maybe they’re like… us?”

Tai scoffed, letting out a laugh that was equal parts bitter and disbelieving.

“C’mon. Jackie? Our Jackie? As in Jackie Taylor—the straightest girl who’s ever set foot on a girls’ soccer team?”

Van winced, chuckling weakly. “Well… when you put it like that…” She sighs. “C’mon, Coach called us in to start prepping for the game. We’ll talk to her later okay?”

She reassures softly, grabbing her hand and leading her out.

Tai winced, squeezing Van's hand a bit harder and reluctantly letting herself get dragged away.

Whatever it was supposed to happen,was already in motion.

Still, she stared where her best friend left, as if the emptiness held the answers. 

***

Shauna didn’t exactly have a great image of herself. It wasn’t the typical insecurity that came with adolescence, but more of a subtle wrongness that had clung to her for as long as she could remember. She felt too much, too little, too off. It was an exhausting, powerless struggle she never dared to voice. Because saying it out loud would make it real. Something she’d have to face. And she wasn’t brave enough for that.

But as she looked at herself in the tall mirror of the dressing room, she felt… good. Comfortable, even. In a way she is usually only found in her flannels and hoodies.

The maroon dress shirt fit perfectly—not tight enough to be a sensory nightmare, but not baggy either. She’d even dared to leave two buttons undone, revealing the faintest hint of cleavage that made her feel… grown. Tasteful. The satin-like fabric caught the golden lights above, giving her an unfamiliar shimmer.

The tailored slacks hugged her hips while still allowing her to move freely. They made her legs look longer, steadier. Stronger. On her feet were her mother’s shoes—not exactly high heels, not high enough to be called that, but with just enough lift to give her a little boost. Jeff had said they would “wrap the outfit up perfectly,” and after an afternoon of practice, she’d finally learned how to walk in them without the fear of snapping an ankle.

Stubbornly, Shauna had to give it to him: Jeff really did have a sense for fashion. She never would have come up with this on her own. Taking a final breath, she stepped out, heading in his direction. At first, he didn’t react—but then his eyes landed on her again, widening in surprise.

“Holy shit…Shauna.” he blurted out, his eyes wide. Jeff was leaning against the wall, absentmindedly scanning the hallway until she appeared. He pushed off and approached her, still staring. 

“Damn, you look-“ He chuckles, awkwardly gesturing at me.  “I didn’t even recognize you.” His voice stumbled over the words, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, the wonders of dressing up for once, I guess.” Shauna shrugged, trying to play it off.

He nodded quickly, almost too eagerly. “You actually look better than I thought you would.”

“Gee, thanks.” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “It’s unfair you jocks get a free pass from doing all this.” She huffs.

Jeff just grins. A girl approaches, her high ponytail already looking a bit disheveled, her face slightly flushed, probably from running around. She gives them both a sharp glance before whipping towards her, a serious scowl upturning her lips. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Shipman, you’re up after Dylan. Last chance to go to the bathroom. Go wait behind the curtain.” she instructed before vanishing again. Shauna scrunches her face.

“I guess that’s your cue, superstar-…” Jeff sings, earning a punch on the arm. He yelps, rubbing it. “Ouch. Shit, how are you so strong?”

Shauna rolls her eyes with a hint of a smile, flipping him off before going to her designated spot. Jeff watches her go, his hand lingering as he follows her with his gaze.

Shauna’s face scrunches, her shoulders tense as she fidgets. Dylan went all out for his performance, of course—blinding colorful lights, actual fire (which she has no clue how the director approved, except oh wait she does, because Dylan’s parents practically own half the school so there really is nothing that he can’t get-) and him, of course, doing a fake guitar solo while dancing around the stage in a ridiculous retro get up. 

The audience was hyped, his fan club even holding signs like he was some pop star instead of a teenager doing a stupid performance in high school.

She dissociates, trying to keep her nerves in check until someone nearly pushes her toward the stage, Dylan already out of sight. For the first time, Shauna is upset by his absence.

Awkwardly, she shuffles her way to the front, pushing through the red velvet curtains only to be instantly blinded by the stage lights. They give her a strange kind of respite, since she doesn’t have to see any faces in the crowd. Her ears, however, are sharp, too sharp — as she makes her way to the wooden stool waiting for her.

Whispers of doubt coil like snakes, wrapping around her nerves and insecurities, tightening with every second.

“Who is that again?”

“Huh, I think it’s that photography girl. The one with the flannels.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen her dressed up. Almost doesn’t look like…well, you know.” Someone snickered, making her face burn even more.

The stool creaks uncomfortably, the sound contrasting against the awkward silence that has overtaken the theater. It feels heavier after holding so much noise for her previous number. The occasional cough and shuffle make it feel even worse.

It got even worse when Shauna looked at her guitar and froze. The thing was practically butchered. Panic surged through her in aggressive, unforgiving waves. Her blood ran cold, clashing against the heat blazing across her skin from mortification. She couldn’t play with this.

She stared in panic, entirely lost, as another round of whispers made their way through the theater. The impatience of the crowd, the weight of their judging stares, dragged her deeper into the well she now felt trapped in.

Then—sneakers rushed toward her. A hand darted forward, sliding her saving grace across the polished wood floor. Her father’s guitar, reaching her as if it had been summoned by her desperation. She squinted against the lights to see Jeff in the wings, sheepish yet supportive, pressing his hands together in a pleading prayer before giving her a reassuring nod.

She breathed—finally—and reached for it.

Almost immediately, she felt safer. As if something had reached out just to keep her steady. She set aside the broken guitar, strapping the familiar red leather across her neck. The sensation reminded her of her father’s hugs, grounding her. As corny and sentimental as it sounded, she could almost feel him right there. Now she just had to play.

A final hush fell over the audience as the first chords rang through the air—but this time it felt different. This time it was a silence born of curiosity, not pressure. Shauna could work with that.

She had only planned to cover a random song, but before she realized it, her lips were moving—singing. Wrapping around the very same words she had once written during one of her darkest nights, when she felt like drowning.

Everyone stared at her, listened to her—but she didn’t care. She just kept playing. The melody, so familiar and intimate, spilled into the room. The bittersweet song that had always been hers was now shared, its weight lifting something inside her, clearing her mind more than it had been in weeks.

The final notes slipped from her, and the spell she had been under finally drifted away. A few heartbeats passed. No one said anything.

And then—thunderous applause. Some stood, others whistled. Air rushed back into her lungs. She rose slowly, blinking against the lights, silhouettes blurring into one another as she searched for… something.

Jeff was one of the first to break into applause, clapping proudly in her direction. Even Dylan, slouched in his seat nearby, hummed with a crooked grin. “Huh… when did Shauna Shipman get hot?” he muttered. 

Jeff glared at him, his face twisting in confusion and barely hidden disgust.

Shauna barely had time to register the moment before the night swept on, before she was practically attacked by a blur of blonde and boundless optimism.

“Nuh-uh, not so fast—” Jeff intercepted her before she could escape out the exit door.

She groaned.

“You killed it up there, Shipman. We have to celebrate after going to the game!”

The brunette winced at the mention of the game. She really doesn't have it in her to confront Tai, to even think that she will also have to see Jackie next to Jeff manages to drain all the adrenaline she got from her performance. Still, even if she didn’t want to, her duties as the team photographer required her to be there.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired—”

“Oh, c’mon, live a little! Besides, everyone wants you there… Even Jackie asked me for you. You didn't tell me you knew each other.” He adds as they move through the crowd. 

Shauna froze at that, eyes wide. Jackie asked for her—Jackie asked for her?

Jeff, as clueless as always, keeps on rambling, grinning, tugging her along while ignoring a fully panicked Shauna. Her legs move along, dragging her to something she didn’t really know if she would ever be prepared for.

***

The sunset lowered over the horizon, covering the swirling clouds into a yellowish hue. The temperature lowered ever so slightly, a reminder that they were already in autumn. 

The bleachers experienced a roar of invigorated people as the blinding white lights turned on to reveal the field. 

People shouted, laughed, and already chanted in their seats, all awaiting the first game of the season. Who could blame them?

The Varsity Yellowjackets football team, against all odds, had been the underdog who defied everyone’s expectations by playing—and winning—big games under the captaincy of Jackie Taylor. 

Her team’s games were everything teenagers and even parents craved: a rush of adrenaline, evoked through the feeling of being part of something important, something that brought trophies home through excellent strategies and thrilling goals that made you stand up and cheer.

Shauna could feel all the adrenaline in her system, her trusty camera in hand as she made her way near the bench.

Jeff, who accompanied her, seemed to have other ideas besides staying.

“I’ll see you later. I’ll bring the car near the main exit after the game, I’ll text you,” he said carefully, checking his phone before slipping it back into his pocket.

Shauna looked at him, tilting her head.

Huh. She was already mentally prepared to watch Jackie run into Jeff’s arms after scoring a goal.

For Jeff to love sickly cheer for her and holler a “That’s my girl!” from the stands.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you staying?” She didn’t even know why she was asking. As if she wanted him to.

Perhaps she did have some self-sabotaging tendencies.

She shivered and briefly whipped her head around to see if Tai was near.

Sheepishly, he hid his hands in his varsity jacket, shuffling his left foot.

“Yeah, I would, but—the guys on the baseball team, they kinda, uh, made a pact to not assist? It’s sounds weird, I know—”

Disbelief wasn’t enough of a word. Her eyes widened, her hands lowering her camera to let it hang at her side as she crossed her arms. “Oh wow. So what, you aren’t staying because you and your team's fragile male egos don’t watch “girl” sports, or—?” she snarked. 

It felt like a reminder that Jeff, for all his weird sensitivity, was still a guy.

A dumb teenage boy at that.

He hesitated, defensive. “Hey, no, I—I know it’s stupid, okay? Believe me, I tried to talk them out of it, but—but the boys are kinda hurt. Some of our budget got reduced after last season, and they’re still a bit sore that it went for—” He flinched, realizing how bad it sounded.

Shauna scoffed. “Whatever, Jeff. Go lick your wounds with your pathetic, misogynistic team or whatever,” she snapped—until she froze in realization. 

“Please tell me you didn’t tell Jackie.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Of course not. I used an excuse besides I'll be there for when it ends., he sputtered, indignant. “But could you, uh…send me some pict—?”

Shauna shot daggers at him, making him shut his mouth immediately, shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Yeah. I kinda deserve that. Just…I’ll come pick you up later, okay?”

Shauna rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid they’d get permanently stuck as she watched Jeff jog away.

Whatever.

She shifted her weight, grounding herself in the familiar weight of her camera, and focused back on the field. 

The roar of the bleachers swelled, the lights blazing brighter as the team began stepping onto the grass. She adjusted her lens, trying to block everything else out—Jeff, her irritation, the uncalled-for satisfaction she felt at his absence—as she got into position for the first shots of the game.

The band’s drums slowed in percussion, matching the rhythm of her own heartbeat as she finally caught the team jogging onto the field. Everyone dressed in yellow and blue colors followed them with eager gazes—from school-pride-drenched students, supportive parents holding banners to boys and girls alike looking out for their hallways crushes.

Shauna didn’t have to search for her. She already knew where she was. 

Shauna always did, somehow. 

Her hands seemed to move on their own, snapping a few shots of the entire lineup (instead of focusing on one specific spot). Moving a bit closer, she made sure to capture the team captains heading over to the ref to see who would get the ball first. Shauna’s lens drifted toward the rival team.

They were from a high school near Wiskayok High, so they could be considered some sort of “official rival.” 

Shauna could recall some of their matches. She didn’t remember them being exceptionally great, but they did have a solid defense—or at least that’s what she thought she got from Taissa’s endless rambles.

“I mean, they pretty much suck on the offense, but they can be a pain in the ass to flank. Still, Jackie grinds us through practice as if we were talking about Nationals…”

Yeah, Shauna pretty much stopped listening after “Jackie.” Her cheeks heat up a little. 

Jackie strolled forward with a confidence that made it seem like she was born for this, meant for this very same role. It wasn’t the same kind of “power walk” she used in the high school hallways or house part backyards, the one put on for show. 

No—this was different. Every step was a claim, a reminder that she belonged here, in front of all these people. Her eyes, usually warm hazel and glimmerign with gold, seemed darker now, predator like, as if the irises had swallowed the green of the field whole and made it its own.

Shauna’s breath hitched as she lifted her camera. The frame didn’t do her justice. Jackie wasn’t even posing—she was living in it. Shoulders squared, back straight, fingers curling to adjust the already-perfect collar of her uniform, a tiny gesture that somehow made 

Shauna’s pulse stutters. She looked untouchable. Untouchable and yet all Shauna wanted was to reach out-

“Heads. Taylor gets the ball!” the referee’s voice cut through, snapping Shauna back, her face heating at just how far her thoughts had wandered. Quickly checking, she sighed in relief when seeing that at least she managed to include the other captain in the frame.

The back of her neck prickled. Turning, she caught the amused stare of Van Palmer and the analytical, almost scolding glance of Taissa Turner. 

Quickly, she ducked her head and slipped around the corner of the field, quite literally running away from her problems.

The whistle slashed through the air. The game was on, snapping the tension into a blur of movement. Shauna took a deep breath, readjusting her camera. She needed to focus—she had a job to do. 

So she did just that. 

She moved from one point to another (well, more like fast-walking—she wasn’t about to sprint in front of the entire school) and managed to capture a handful of solid shots of the Wiskayok players.

Van Palmer with the ball on her hip, calling in with a gentle yet admired authority for the defense line to move up. 

Lottie Matthews executing a flawless slide, her long legs sweeping the ball cleanly from the rival. 

Taissa Turner leaping into the air to intercept, redirecting the ball with a single touch. 

Natalie Scatorccio weaving through the rival defense with feints and sprints, making it look like the easiest thing in the world.

She did her job. She captured all of those moments.

Until she didn’t. Because she couldn’t seem to help herself when her lens trailed after number nine, as if Jackie Taylor carried her own gravity.

Jackie calling for the ball, arms slicing through the air with authority to shift the midfield back or drive it forward. Jackie weaving past defenders, unafraid to get physical if it meant breaking into the box. Jackie shouting encouragement, her voice carrying clean and confident across the plays.

She wasn’t just playing: she was commanding, magnetic, as if this were more than just an opening season game.

Shauna hated it—hated how she couldn’t help but notice. Condemning her to repeat all the mistakes that got her into that position in the first place. 

Snap. Flash, Another picture.

Snap. Another excuse to linger.

The first half was already done, both teams retreating to drink and wipe away sweat. The scoreboard favored the Yellowjackets by a single goal, yet none of them seemed to let the energy dip. Jackie, gulping water as if it might vanish, looked at her from the corner of her eye. Shauna jolted ever so slightly, her finger snapping a photo without her consent.

The blonde stopped mid-drink to enthusiastically wave, grinning as if she had just won the entire game. Shauna flushed, certain for a moment that maybe Jackie was waving at someone behind her—but no, that wasn’t the case. 

Jackie was…happy to see her, apparently. And Shauna was not proud of the way her brain short-circuited at that realization.

Timidly, she lifted her hand in return, a small, flustered smile tugging at her lips.

She cursed herself. Damn it. The whole reason she had agreed to help Jeff was to try and move on. This was definitely not moving on. Forcing herself to walk away, she pretended to review shots on her camera. Instead, all she did was stare at the damned photo.

The whistle startled her. The second half was starting, and so, she started moving too. In a half-split decision, she drifted to the very same spot she’d ended up that night—right behind the rival team’s goalie. This time, though, she took a few careful steps back and to the side. She had no wish to end up on the grass again, thank you very much.

The Yellowjackets still held their one-goal advantage, but another would do wonders for their position on the board.

And so it happened.

The Yellowjackets pressed harder, determined to hold their lead. Shauna tried to compartmentalize, snapping shots of the play in the making—Tai barking orders from midfield, Laura Lee who’d been benched slipping in a surprisingly bold pass and connecting the middle line, Natalie streaking down the wing, head up, scanning for someone.

And then—the rival defense fumbled. A clear lane opened, breaking through their formation like glass. Jackie was already there, waiting, as if she’d sensed it before it even happened, her body tuned to the rhythm of the chaos around her.

Shauna’s breath caught as Jackie leapt, leg arcing high in a volley. The form was flawless—effortless grace meeting lethal precision that she herself saw being forged.

The crack of the shot echoed through the field. The ball ripped past the goalkeeper, slamming into the net with a force that made Shauna herself flinch. She wouldn’t want to be in front of that.

A heartbeat of silence—then the eruption. People screamed, jumped, shirts flew off, drinks spilled across the stands. But Shauna barely heard any of it. Her lens was fixed on Jackie.

Perfect shot. Perfect picture. Yet again on her trembling hands.

Jackie turned. Not to the crowd. Not to her teammates, who were already rushing across the field and benchers to smother their captain in celebration. No—she turned to the sidelines. To Shauna.

As if she’d known exactly where she’d be. As if she’d been expecting right there all along, as if she knew even to admit all the action.

She pointed at her, a cocky smile tugging at her mouth, before she winked—like the goal had been meant for her all along.

“That one’s for you Shipman!” Jackie shouted, her voice carrying over the chaos, seconds before she was swallowed by half the team.

Not that it mattered. Shauna would have heard her anyway. She just… would not have.

She just stared, frozen, the camera hanging away from her numb hands. All the feelings she’d tried so hard to bury spilled over, uncontained, flooding her chest in a rush that burned and soothed all at once. The ache she’d clung to as proof—proof of what she couldn’t have—dissolved under the weight of it.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Already-drunk teenagers tumbled around the front yard, some drinking or smoking, others already emptying their stomachs.

Shauna doubted that puke was going to do much for the lawn’s overall health. Cringing slightly, she glanced up at the night sky, clouds drifting apart as she contemplated her life choices.

“Jeff, I don’t know about this…this isn’t really my scene.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’re more of a ‘brood-in-dark-library-corners-while-reading-Bronte’ type, but this’ll be fun, Shaun. All these people loved your performance.”

Jeff’s enthusiasm was undeterred as he shoved his car keys into the back pocket of his jeans, before dramatically pointing at the door of Mari Ibarra’s house.

Shauna sighed but reluctantly followed, too tired to scold him for the nickname.

They seriously should have a talk about this. 

Noise blasted them the moment they stepped inside. LED lights flickered across the ceiling, shifting between shades of blue and green that bathed the chaotic space in neon haze. No Doubt blared from cheap speakers, so loud that Shauna wondered how the police weren’t already knocking.

People filled the lobby across the back yard, chatting and lazily dancing to the beat, and a small cheer went up when they spotted her. The reaction caught Shauna off guard.

She recognized a few faces—Thomas from Latin, Sophie from Trig. The rest were vaguely familiar, classmates she knew only by proximity.

Jeff slipped immediately into jock-superstar mode, clapping other guys on the back, already in his element. Shauna, meanwhile, felt her desire to leave swell back in full force.

She felt stuck out here, every nerve telling her she didn’t belong—until a tall figure moved through the crowd toward her.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Shauna?”

Shauna blinked, shifting to see past the bodies until they stood in front of her.

Lottie Matthews, her mind supplied. They weren’t exactly friends, but they’d worked together on more than a few group projects. Shauna let herself exhale.

She knew Lottie.

Kind, cheery, a little aloof and mysterious—Lottie Matthews she could handle.

“Hey, Lottie,” Shauna greeted awkwardly, shuffling on her feet. “Just wanted to pass by and say congrats on your win.”

Lottie’s smile was bright enough to soften the edges of the noise and chaos around them. She smelled expensive, really nice. She probably wore the kind of perfume that could probably pay half a year’s tuition at Brown.

Not used to the attention of her dark eyes, Shauna felt her face heat instantly.

“I feel like I should be the one congratulating you. I didn’t know you could sing that well—your performance was insane.” Gently, she steered Shauna further into the house with a hand on the lower back.

She didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to do, just let it happen.

“I could feel the raw pain in your lyrics,” Lottie continued. “It was truly beautiful.” She added, eyes bright and somehow trying to look for something deeper.

Not knowing what to say to such… dramatic input, Shauna just gave a tense smile.

“Here, I’ll take you to the team. They all want to check in on our star photographer.”

Swerving across the crowded room, it almost seemed like people parted for Lottie. Who could blame them? Behind the cheerful facade, Lottie had presence. 

Whether it was her family’s name or simply her natural charisma, people couldn’t help but notice her.

Hell, even Shauna had caught herself staring at her more than once in class. 

Sometimes she’s jealous of that kind of influence over others—and because…well, the obvious fact that Lottie is one of the most gorgeous girls at school.

“Hey, Nat, why don’t you fix us a drink?” The brunette called over to the makeshift bar in the kitchen, where Nat Scatorccio was mixing something up with the expertise of a Bond movie bartender.

She wore a print, short dress under her classic leather jacket, her hair somehow looking perfectly good despite the conditions of humidity in a house full of drunk teenagers.

Shauna briefly wondered if being attractive was a requirement for making it in the team. 

“Well, hi there, Shipman. Now this is a surprise.”

The blonde greeted coolly, nodding her way before her eyes briefly caught on Lottie’s arm , which travelled all the way up to her back to be thrown casually around Shauna.

It might’ve been the flickering blue lights, but Shauna could’ve sworn Nat’s grey eyes went a shade darker. “What are you up for?”

Shauna shrugged as best she could with the added weight on her shoulders.

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t burn my throat would be nice.”

Lottie hummed thoughtfully. “What about Malibu and milk then?”

The suggestion made Nat scrunch her nose in disgust. “Yeah, no way I’m making that—”

“Holy shit? Shauna Shipman?” a voice called. Shauna held a groan. It really wasn’t as if she didn’t leave her house…mostly.

Van strolled over with an exaggerated look of shock, like she’d just spotted a wild animal in the wrong habitat. Shauna did feel a bit like that. “Tai will not believe me when I tell her.”

A couple of the JV players trailed with her: Akilah and Melissa, if Shauna remembered correctly.

The girl with the golden hair looked flushed, frozen in place.

“H-hello, Shauna,” she stammered. Shauna nodded her way, not remembering if they’d ever actually been introduced.

“You… you were a-amazing. Up on stage? With your song. You made it, right? It—it felt like you made it.” Her eyes widened in panic. “Not because it’s bad! Because the lyrics are really good, of course!” she blurted, sounding like she might run out of air and keel over at any moment.

“Oh, uh… thanks?” Shauna answered, not really knowing what to say to such eager praise.

Van and Nat exchanged amused looks and snickered, while Akilah patted Melissa gently on the back.

“Well um, congrats on your win, guys. Pretty good match,” Shauna offered, trying to ease the tension.

The girls smiled brightly and chimed a cheery “Thanks!” before interrogating her about the pics. 

“Oh, I’ll probably edit them tomorrow. Shouldn’t take me more than three days to develop them. I’ll send them to Misty—”

“NO!” Almost all of them screamed at once, as if the very idea gave them chills.

“Please, having our pictures on Misty’s laptop is the last thing we want,”

Van shuddered, backed by a chorus of agreement. Each of them looked particularly haunted by some memory.

“Yeah. Remember when she had that weird hyperfixation on Jackie?” Mari, who had suddenly materialized between Mel and Akilah, pointed out. The others nodded in distress.

“Ugh. Taught us a lesson about being too nice to her. Jackie just listened to her rant about the most common medical complications after soccer injuries and bam—she trailed behind her for, like, all of sophomore year. Even tired to dress exactly like her at some point.”

“That’s what Cap gets for being all about ‘team spirit,’” Nat mocked, though there wasn’t a single hint of malice in her voice. She squinted toward the doorway. 

“Speaking of the devil, where is she—oh, never mind. I can already see the crowd parting like Moses just respawned and decided to crash the party.” She snorted, making them all turn.

Shauna held her breath.

Natalie hadn’t exaggerated one bit. Soon enough, the entire house seemed to split open, people instinctively stepping aside as if compelled to make way for royalty. 

Jackie Taylor all but strutted through the door, a confident smile playing on her lips. She wore her varsity jacket like a crown, taking her time to wave, nod, and greet people she knew—which, judging by the reaction, was most of the crowd.

Like a princess gracing her subjects, she brightened their night with nothing more than a pretty face and kind eyes.

If it had been anyone else, Shauna would’ve scoffed. Probably laughed at how desperate everyone seemed for even a flicker of attention, as if a glance could confirm their worth. 

But she couldn’t blame them—not without being a hypocrite. Because when those hazel eyes finally fell on her, suddenly every reason she had for coming to the party felt so fucking worth it.

The blue lighting washed over Jackie with a gentleness that made her seem almost untouchable, ethereal; like she belonged to a palace far, far away, and had only descended to solid ground for a fleeting night. It was so unfair, Shauna thought.

How everything seemed to stop just for her. Including her heart.

Jackie lit up. And every attempt Shauna had made to bury her feelings crumbled miserably. But as Jackie walked toward them, Jeff suddenly materialized—like a dog catching the scent of his owner, tail practically wagging.

In an instant, he had her attention, pulling her gaze away and sending a dark pit twisting in Shauna’s core.

“… Shauna?”

The voice reached her as if from underwater. She blinked hard, snapping out of it, and found herself staring at an amused Lottie.

Her head was tilted, just so—the same way she always did when she was catching onto something no one else had noticed. The kind of look that made Shauna’s stomach knot.

Vulnerable under those sharp, too-intense eyes, she nearly shuddered.

“You’re Jeff’s friend, right?”

Casual. Normal. Harmless. But the question lingered like a blade ready to swing. Would she really call Jeff a friend? Still, there was no reason to deny it.

“Uh… I guess, yeah,” Shauna muttered. Her gaze flicked toward Nat, suddenly craving that promised drink.

If she was going to be this on edge all night, she wasn’t sure she’d survive without doing something stupid—like bolting.

Or breaking someone’s nose.

“He seems nice. To Jackie. They’d look good together, don’t you think?”

The words were sweet—too sweet for the way they hollowed Shauna out. Cotton filled her mouth, choking her.

“Sure. Jeff’s…he’s a really nice guy” she stammered. “But what about Dylan? Aren’t Jackie and him—”

“Nah.” Lottie’s tone was syrupy, leaning closer as though sharing some secret treasure.

Shauna caught the faint scar up the bridge of her nose, and of course—even that looked good on her. 

“They’re on another break. My cousin,” she sneered, unfamiliar venom sharp beneath her smile, “takes everything for granted. Especially what he thinks he owns. Jackie included. They have this little ‘deal’ that lets him fool around. Jackie, though? She could get with whoever she wants. And honestly—” her lips brushed the shell of Shauna’s ear, feather-light, enough to make her skin prickle, “—sending him those letters? You must have influenced him a lot, Shauna.”

A shiver ran through her, unwilling and unwanted, the closeness sparking like an exposed nerve.

Panic ricocheted inside her, alarms urging her to deny, to push back, to say something.

“He can be smart. Outside his usual orbit of high school baseball and, well… Randy.”

The words came tentative, flat, her expression carefully blank. Because she knew—knew—that if she gave Lottie anything more, she’d seize it and make it hers.

Lottie’s gaze lingered, searching her face as though for the smallest crack to slip into. Shauna didn’t let one show.

They were too close—so close—that from the outside it might’ve looked like something hazy, something intimate. And then Lottie’s eyes flicked, just briefly, down from Shauna’s lashes to her lips.

“Here. A proper drink. None of that Malibu bullshit.”

Nat’s voice cut through, cheerful but a little too loud, even against the pounding beat. Shauna tried to step back, to put space between them, but Lottie’s arm was still draped casually over her shoulder, anchoring her in place.

Heat rose hot and fast in her face—she was certain she was glowing scarlet.

“And because you always get our best angles,” Nat added with a grin, sliding the glass toward her, “it’s on the house.”

Lottie let out a short, lilting laugh, the intensity of a moment ago dissolving as though it had never existed.

Shauna almost wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Nat, all drinks are on the house,” Lottie teased, earning a shrug from the blonde.

Shauna didn’t wait for further commentary. She grabbed the glass and downed it in one go, not bothering to ask what it was.

Heat bloomed sharp in her throat, sweet and acidic all at once, coating her tongue. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected.

A smirking Nat made her another one, which Shauna took greedily. If she was to survive, sobriety wouldn’t do it for her.

”Wowza Shipman, didn’t peg you for a drinker.” 

The sweet, teasing voice made her eyes widen. Words that should’ve pissed her off, made her roll her eyes and tell whoever dared to say them to fuck off, only made her choke on the alcohol.

In a fit of coughs, she barely noticed Lottie’s hand now gently caressing her back. But someone else did.

Jackie’s eyes lingered on the small, intimate gesture before she tore herself away, the bright, all-winning smile resurging once more.

“I loved your performance, Shauna.” Her voice softened, dipping past its usual cheer into something raw, honest. “I…I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, really.”

She must’ve gone to hell. Down, down to the pit meant for the wretched and wicked—she must have.

Because Shauna felt lightheaded, her heart thrumming in her chest at the compliment that somehow felt like everything, yet not enough.

“Thanks, Jackie.” She nodded, forcing her voice to stay steady. “You uh…scored.” The grimace came almost immediately. Jeff snorted, and she shot him a glare.

Alright, perhaps she’d been a bit too hard on Jeff. Jackie Taylor did have a mind-numbing effect.

Jackie snorted. “Yeah, I did. Thanks to you.” She punctuated it with a wink. She really needed to stop with the winking- Shauna’s heart wasn’t going to survive much more of it.

Jeff tilted his head, confused. “Oh, she helped you practice?”

“Yup,” Jackie replied without hesitation. “She’s good. You could still sign up for the team, Shauna. I’m sure we’d find a spot for you.”

The offer tugged a timid smile out of her before she could stop it. Van chuckled under her breath, muttering, “I bet she would,” which earned her a sharp warning glare from Tai—who had finally arrived.

Van zipped her lips theatrically, but the mischievous grin stayed plastered on her face.

Almost immediately, Tai’s sharp eyes found Shauna, her expression giving away exactly what she was thinking.

Shauna really, really didn’t want to have that conversation; not here, not now...maybe not never. So she improvised.

“So… what do you all do for fun around here?” she asked, her voice unnaturally eager.

The tone made her grimace internally, but she hid it behind a quick sip of her drink.

The thin plastic cup suddenly felt like her lifeline.

“Glad you asked! Shall we?” Lottie announced dramatically, offering her arm. Without really thinking, Shauna accepted it, and in an instant, she was being dragged off by the tall brunette, followed closely by a few of the other girls from the team.

It all blurred together in a haze of alcohol, weed, and sweaty teenagers moving to whatever song was blasting too loud.

Shauna found herself everywhere—passing a joint between Nat and Van until a coughing fit had all three of them doubled over in laughter, starting a drunken game of pool with Mari, or letting Lottie drag her onto the dance floor where they jumped around like idiots.

She was having fun. Truly.

But her eyes betrayed her, every time.

Because no matter how much she laughed, or how high the buzz carried her, they always wandered. Searching.

That’s when she saw it. A haunting sight.

Jeff—smiling wide, his hair a chaotic mess—pulled Jackie into his orbit. She spun, laughter bubbling out as she landed squarely against his chest.

The two of them moved in sync, caught up in some rhythm no one else could hear. Shauna swore it was a melody only she was cursed to notice.

Jackie laughed again, covering her mouth as Jeff whispered what had to be some stupid joke, the kind she’d normally roll her eyes at. But she laughed anyway, and the sound twisted inside Shauna, equal parts sweet and unbearable.

Her cheeks were flushed pink, her cheekbones lifted as she mouthed the lyrics to a song Shauna couldn’t recall the name of.

His hands wrapped around her, resting on her hips.

His blue dress shirt contrasted the flowery pinks of Jackie's dress.

His hands were holding onto something that Shauan could never reach. 

And when she let herself look higher, she found it—the reason. Warm hazel eyes, glowing even under the dim, shifting light.

Already there, as if waiting. Enough to ignite a spark that shot straight through her and made her pulse come alive.

For a fleeting second, Shauna let herself hate it—the way it complicated everything, the way she seemed to crave those eyes even knowing they’d never mean exactly what she wished for.

Teasing, captivating, condemning her to always keep looking.

Did Jackie even realize the hold she had? Or did she see it as just another repercussion of her simple existence?

Shauna tipped her third—maybe fourth—cup up into the air, her head falling back as the liquid burned its way down.

Turning around,she forced the scorching sensation and focused on the beer pong game in front of her, not being afraid to take Lottie's drink for her when she lost a round, swallowing it eagerly with the cheers and hollers of “chug, chug, chug!”. 

For the first time, she understood the appeal of parties: noise and chaos strong enough to drown out the constant churn of her own thoughts.

Between drinks, reckless decisions, and the weird comfort of unexpected camaraderie, she could almost forget herself.

It was almost enough to make the ache go away.

Almost.

Instead, she retreated for a while, wandering upstairs, the corner of her eyes catching the way Jackie seemed to follow before she finally disappeared.

Wandering around, she ended up on the balcony, big enough to have a small round table and a chair. Instead of sitting, she rested against the metal railing, the fresh air doing wonders against the humidity now stuck on her skin.

Suddenly, she felt watched again. She had been followed. It didn’t take much for her to discover by whom.

“Need a break?” Lottie asked softly, gracefully moving toward her. Her steps were so light Shauna could barely hear them, as if she had done a perfect job of masking her presence.

Shauna briefly wondered if that was on purpose. 

Did Lottie Mathews ever want to make herself small? 

“Something like that.” Shauna laughed weakly, the sound lost in the quiet hum of the street. The occasional cat prowled lazily across the asphalt, the night calm in contrast to the revolution inside.

Lottie’s gaze lingered on her, patient, curious. “Are you…satisfied, Shauna?” The words made Shauna blink, caught off guard.

“Satisfied?” she echoed, glancing at Lottie, who only smiled, calm and unreadable.

The two of them had never been that close, just casual school friends really, but if Shauna knew something about Lottie, it was that she always seemed to ask the most bizarre inquiries.

It always acted as a contrast to the initial rich-spoiled-girl cover she had going on.

“With…everything,” Lottie clarified, voice soft. “The party, the…people, the night. Yourself, maybe. There can be a lot of meanings to the word, really.”

Shauna hummed, her smile stretched tight. “Yeah, sure. It’s great,” she muttered, eyes drifting back to the sky.

The clouds shifted slowly, almost imperceptibly, and for a moment she let herself get lost in them.

Still, she could feel Lottie’s gaze trailing over her.

“You never lie well, you know,” Lottie said quietly, tilting her head. “You wear your emotions too close to your heart.

Doesn’t really make it hard to tell what you’re really thinking, if you are looking close enough.”

“Oh, do I?” Shauna shot back, dry, though her weight shifted without her meaning to. “Fancy way of calling me out for the resting bitch face.”

That pulled a soft huff of amusement from Lottie. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Her voice stayed even, maddeningly so. “But then again, you don’t strike me as someone who’s very honest with herself.”

Shauna inhaled too sharply, the air stinging her lungs, irritation prickling in her chest.

“What’s your point, Matthews? Did you just come here to psychoanalyze me?”

She finally voiced it, confused as to where the tall girl wanted to go. It was starting to piss her off, the way she suddenly seemed to talk in riddles.

“Not really. Just wanted to see if you would answer me. So tell me. Are you satisfied?” she echoed.

“Well, that’s a complicated thing to answer. I’m human. There is no way for me to be satisfied—it’s in my nature. As it is yours and everyone’s at this house. We’ll always want more. Greedy creatures, thats humanity’s curse isn’t it?.” She chuckled, not liking the direction this conversation was leading to.

But Lottie seemed unphased by her sarcasm, as if she saw right through. 

“Let’s change the question, then. Are you at least getting what you want now?” Lottie whispered, and she was close enough for Shauna to see the puffs of air.

“Newsflash, Lottie, but not everyone’s daddy has a billion company—”

Lottie stepped forward, denying her personal space and the chance of escape routes. It almost felt like punishment. “Answer me, Shauna.”

She gulped, her throat dry. It must be the alcohol—why she suddenly felt too tired to make any more excuses, the way her defenses melted ever so slightly. 

She refused to think that the next words that came out of her mouth were because of the strange magnetism Lottie Matthews had and how it unfairly affected her.

“Fine. There’s something I want.” She snapped, resting her weight. She took a few seconds to gather her thoughts, try and decide if honesty was the way to go. But Shauna was tired.

Tired of holding onto this, not being able to remove teh weight by giving it to someone else.

She didn't want Tai to bear it, after all she tried to warn her.

But Lottie…Lottie could be a good choice. She was calm, never judged in that particular harsh teenage girl way. And while she liked her fair share of gossip, she never initiated one herself.

“So badly it… it drives me insane most of the time,” she muttered under the dark, endless night, looking straight into the chasms that were Lottie’s eyes. 

Somehow, they made her feel as if she were on the edge, but still she wanted to take the jump. 

“I want it with every breath. It follows me on every step I take. It haunts me even in my dreams and makes me hate myself so badly. For… for not having the chance or the strength to want something else.”

“Why don’t you just take it, if you need it so much?” Lottie reflected. Shauna denied.

“Because it’s not my right to do so.” Breathless, she turned her head to watch the way the streetlight finally lit up. 

“Never will be. So instead, I hide behind words and gestures that she will never know were mine first to begin with. It’s something out of…cowardly hopeless desperation, I think. But I don’t want it to stop.” She breathes out, feeling as if her chest got lighter with the confession that has been fawning her.

“…Do you think that makes me selfish, Lottie?”

The question had no traces of indulgence or performative plea.

Its words were spoken firmly, as if she were genuinely interested in having the answer.

“I think it makes you inevitable. Human.” She echoed. “I know what it feels like. To crave a person so badly it leaves you trying to gather the pieces of yourself. Even if it makes you want to escape from it altogether…even if you would have to embrace it first. Perhaps you should.”

“Should what?” Shauna sighed.

“Stop pretending you can ignore it because you don’t accept the fact that not all of those pieces belong to you…some of those are meant for others to keep.” Lottie answered softly, stepping even closer. 

The faint herbal notes—perhaps incense—felt grounding and reassuring at once, almost making her want to spill more of her dark thoughts.

“Stop pretending it doesn’t affect you. That would be a good first step.”

Shauna laughed once, sharp, humorless. “You make it sound like I’ve got a choice.”

“We always have a choice, Shauna,” Lottie insisted, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips, though her tone was calm despite the weight of her words—words that teetered between rehearsed and inevitable. 

Her hand brushed the balcony railing, then stilled, fingers curling around the metal. “Just not the kind you may want.”

For a long moment, they only stared at each other. The night pressed in, thick and suffocating, the kind that made every whisper travel the whole word.

Finally, Lottie stepped back just enough to give her space, though her gaze never wavered.

“Think about it. If keep denying yourself what you want it’s worth it. Just because you understand it doesn’t mean it’s bad. Sometimes it’s about giving ourselves a chance, I think.”

Shauna nodded faintly, unable to say anything else. Her head spun with every word. The air picked up slightly, the clouds parting to reveal faint stars, as if the night itself had noticed the opening inside her turmoil.

Just as quietly as she had appeared, Lottie turned and walked back toward the party, leaving Shauna alone. She allowed herself a few minutes before heading downstairs. She really needed a drink now.

***

Eventually, the energy of the house shifted. The music still thumped inside, but the crowd thinned, spilling out into the wide backyard. Pairs huddled in corners, others lounged across the grass or crowded around the patio lights. Shauna drifted with them, cup warm in her hand, head pleasantly buzzing.

She found the swings, the cool bite of the night raising goosebumps along her bare arms. The slightly rusted chain pressed against her cheek, grounding her in its chill. The team was scattered around, some already home. Shauna wished she was one of them as she took a sip from her beer bottle. 

It was lukewarm, bitter. Like her.

But to go home would mean looking for Jeff, and looking for Jeff would mean seeing him with her and—well. SHauna didn’t really have it in her to watch them all love dovey, she wasn't that much of a masochist.

It’s fine. She could spend the night here. It wasn’t that uncomfortable. The moon was high, the breeze was nice as she lazily swung. It even smelled nice—hints of lavender and jasmine in the air. Smelled like—

“Is this seat taken?”

She flinched, half the liquid spilling across her jeans with the motion. “Shit.” Cursing under her breath, she tried to wipe the stain, frustration bubbling at the thought of scrubbing it out later.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Jackie Taylor apologized. Though the slight, amused smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her words.

Shauna opened her mouth, then froze when she realized Jackie was waiting, expectant. Awkwardly, she just nodded toward the empty swing. Jackie took it immediately.

“S’fine,” Shauna muttered, slurring a little, the shock of Jackie’s sudden presence not nearly enough to sober her.

Jackie tilted her head, studying her. “How many drinks have you had, Shipman?”

Ugh. That stupid word. So unfair. Even her own last name sounded dangerous when Jackie said it, wielding it as a reckless weapon that could make her blush on command. Couldn’t she have one goddamn break?

Shauna furrowed her brows, trying to come up with an exact number, but all she could recall were dark spots and flashes: Van’s wild grin, Tai’s worried frown, Mari dancing drunk on top of a table, and Lottie’s dark, watchful eyes. Oh—and Nat tugging Lottie somewhere else, their hands laced together.

Not enough, that’s for sure.

At least, that’s what she thought. But her tongue was too loose, too disconnected from her brain. She must have said it out loud, because Jackie snorted.

Jackie tilted her head back, exposing the clean line of her throat, the porch light glinting off the golden chain she never took off.

“Where did you get that?” Shauna asked softly. Too soft. Too unfiltered.

Jackie blinked, a little caught off guard. Her hand lifted almost instinctively, thumb and forefinger brushing the charm as if to reassure herself it was still there.

She traced its shape without seeming to realize it.

The necklace gleamed faintly against her skin, the floral dress draped neatly beneath it, hem brushing her thighs as though even gravity wanted to be gentle with her.

Jackie’s back was perfectly straight, her posture composed in that effortless, infuriating way—even if Shauna was sure she was at least a little buzzed.

The colored party lights flickered across the blonde streaks in her hair, setting them aglow. Shauna really needed to stop staring.

At least Jackie seemed too far back in her own thoughts to notice.

“My grandmother gave it to me. Just a bit before she…” Jackie’s voice trailed off, her face tightening in that subtle, unmistakable way grief leaves behind.

“She said it reminded her of me when she saw it. Shiny, golden yet…”

“Solid?” Shauna muttered, eyes heavy, almost dazed.

Jackie blinked, then let out a soft huff of amusement. “Yes, actually. Most people just go with ‘delicate,’ though.”

Heat rushed up Shauna’s neck, but the alcohol loosened her tongue too much to stop.

“Not saying you aren’t—but I think solid fits better.” Her sweaty palms curled tighter around the metal chains of the swing.

“Oh really?” Jackie shot back, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Why’s that?”

Shauna held up her fingers like she was about to deliver a formal speech. “Well, first of all, I recall someone knocking me on my ass in the hallway.” She dropped her hand with mock drama, grinning as Jackie broke into a laugh. “And then, knocking me on my ass again with a hundred-mile-an-hour football right to the face.”

Jackie’s expression twisted into fake horror, her laugh spilling out louder this time.

Shauna couldn’t help joining in. It was…nice.

Nicer than seeing that usual, polished composure Jackie wrapped around herself like armor.

“Okay, wow,” Jackie said, feigning outrage. “Not my fault you don’t have a center of gravity.”

“Damn, Taylor, now you’re blaming the victim?” Shauna hissed in false offense, leaning in just enough for the words to feel pointed. “Maybe you’re not such a perfect little good two-shoes after all.”

Jackie’s smirk curved slowly, deliberate. Her voice dropped half an octave, a hint of rasp coloring the smoothness. “Never said I was.”

Shauna blinked at her, the confidence sparking heat in her chest like a sudden flare. Her mind short-circuited, blowing a fuse and leaving her a stammering, blushing idiot for a few seconds before it rebooted.

She coughed, shifting away just enough to try and regain her footing.

“...Right,” she finally managed, clutching the swing chain tighter as she leaned back, the seat rocking gently with her movement.

A small, uncontrollable giggle slipped out before she remembered how to talk again.

Sober Shauna would never fucking giggle.

“Forgot about the whole ‘badass captain of the football team’ thing. You are a jock, after all.” Her words came out soft, half-mocking.

Jackie chuckled, her shoulder teasingly brushing against Shauna’s as she shifted. “So dramatic, Shipman. You act like I ruined your whole life.”

Shauna’s smile lingered, her eyes catching Jackie’s hazel ones in the half-light.

Something reckless, breathless pushed past her lips before she could stop it.

“Yeah, well… maybe you did.”

Honest. Pure, raw honesty. 

It felt liberating, in those fleeting instants. The way Jackie’s eyes widened just slightly, her lips—soft, glistening under the dim lights—parting as if caught off guard. It felt good, dizzyingly good, to finally dare to say something.

Something that was directly meant to her, even if only between the lines. Something that gave Shauna away.

It felt simple. Just two girls on a swing, talking casually. Yet Shauna belonged to that moment. She wasn’t the bystander, the watcher on the sidelines. She was here—her words, her beating heart, her confessions to regret later.

And Jackie was right in front of her. For once, just once, Shauna didn’t have to share her.

She let herself wonder. If there could ever be a chance of someone like Jackie Taylor loving someone like Shauna Shipman. 

If Jackie ever thought of her after their eyes met across crowded hallways, or while staring out the window at nightfall. If she remembered them on field, when she ran toward Shauna, when her hands lingered just a little too long.

If she would ever, ever know—just how much Shauna had pretended that she was good enough to be loved by someone like Jackie.

“Shauna?” a voice called. She must have been more drunk than she thought, because she almost lost her balance when turning to see who it was. She stumbled into a solid torso, the faint scent of familiar detergent and fresh books hit her. Finally steadying herself, she smiled at the sight of her best friend.

“Hey Taiii! Watch—what’re you doin—” Her stomach clenched painfully, and before she knew it, all the discomfort surged upward.

“Jesus, fuck—Shauna!” Tai yelped, barely managing to keep her cowboy boots -are they what they call cowboy boots?- Shauna thought, as her vision blurred slightly. “How many have you had?! Shit. Someone, help me deal with this….Mari! No! Get away from the pool! Van! Dont fucking follower her!” She sighed. “Wait here-”

Letting her head hang as Tai slipped away, Shauna scrunched her face. She was not feeling good. Another wave of nausea hit, and she managed to move forward just enough for it to land on the floor.

She felt someone gently hold her hair back, warm hands reassuring against her head, rubbing small circles on her back.

“Yup, just get it out, Shipman,” the gentle voice said. Shauna’s eyes widened. Shit. Jackie. Jackie just saw me vomit all over Mari Ibarra’s lawn.

She groaned before vomiting again. 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Jackie’s reflection stared right back at her. Eyes slightly wide, unfocused, as though she could catch and contain what she was feeling if she just looked long enough. 

But Jeff’s voice still echoed in her mind. A bit trembling yet earnest, declaring that he wanted something more than just…friends.

Jackie hesitated, unsure what to do with the weight of it. Jeff, who had written her all those charming letters, all those notes, who had shown her the hidden corners of their suffocating town and somehow made them feel like secret wonders. Who made her smile be a little less for the others, and more for herself.

Her hand found the heart-shaped pendant resting on her chest, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over the metal. She did what she thought was best, she took his hand, smiled, and reassured him. Told him it was okay if words didn’t come easy 

Still, she hadn’t promised him a perfect happy ending. That they would start to date. Not when Dylan was still there. Even if they’d agreed to “discreetly” see other people.

“We’re going to end up together anyway,” Dylan had shrugged. “We’re inevitable, so why can’t we just have some fun in the middle? Fool around a little, y’know?”

Her brows had furrowed. No, she didn’t know. Because she wasn’t that type of person. She was the girl who still held on to fairytales, who believed in the kind of love that left you dizzy, who cried into her pillow after cheesy romcoms.

But the years had taught her to settle, to take what you were handed with a polite nod.

Even if the thought of spending the rest of her life next to someone like Dylan made her stomach twist.

“Jackie!” A voice called her name. She turned toward the open window. Down below, Lottie Matthews stood next to her car, grinning up at her. “Taylor, let’s go! Stop fussing with your already perfect hair and get your ass down here—we’ll miss the show.”

Jackie rolled her eyes, though the corners of her lips tugged upward. Snatching up her sports bag, already packed, she hurried down the long, echoing stairs. There was no one to say goodbye to in the big, empty house, so she slipped quietly out the door.

“Jesus, since when are you so eager to go to high school functions?” Jackie muttered, tossing her bag into the back seat and fastening her belt.

She caught the mirror above her, checking for imperfections.

Lottie only shrugged as the engine purred to life. “Since I heard Shauna Shipman is performing.”

The pocket mirror slipped right out of Jackie’s hand. She scrambled to catch it, cursing under her breath, missing Lottie’s sly glance.

“She… she is?” she asked, hiding the sudden eagerness the name provoked. What could she say?

She liked Shauna.

She was fun to be around. Maybe it was a friend-crush. She could totally see them as friends. Maybe even close friends–

Lottie nodded, already planning some little maneuver her dad would probably sigh about. “Yup. A guitar solo. Maybe she’ll sing.”

“Shauna sings?” Jackie couldn’t help asking, unshamedly curious for someone who asked Jeff a few times about her. 

“I heard her once, when I was trying to find her about lit homework and found her alone in the music room. She’s got a nice voice. Shame she doesn’t sing in the choir.”

Jackie hummed. “Are you two… close?”

Lottie shrugged. “I mean, not as much as I’d like.” Lottie remarked with something close to a dreamy sigh. Jackie's eyes squinted ever so slightly. “She’s pretty fun to get to know once you get past the mysterious “don't talk to me” cover. She’s kinda introverted, a bit hard to know.” She muttered something under her breath and spun, then added, “But I think it would be totally worth it to do so, yknow?”

Jackie nodded, trying to picture it—Lottie and Shauna close. Lottie had made it sound like she would want that.

She could almost see it: the two of them hanging out, laughing at the mall, hugging after Lottie dropped her home.

Shauna showing Lottie the photos she snapped of her during practice.

Her jaw tightened. Something in her chest coiled, new and uncomfortable, her leg bouncing restlessly against the car floor.

“Oh, stop with the sour face. Don’t be jealous.”

Her cheeks burned in a shame that came when being caught doing something wrong; she shook her head too fast, denying it even though she wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was denying.

“You’re still my best friend,” Lottie said lightly. The words landed like a cold bucket. Jackie deflated instantly.

The rest of the drive fell into silence. Jackie stared out the window, trying to untangle the knot twisting inside her.

Was she… jealous of Shauna maybe? For Lottie now being interested on getting closer to her? No. That couldn’t be it.

Lottie was a social butterfly—she was friends with half the school, and it never bothered Jackie before. Laura Lee could almost rival her for the “best friend” slot, and Jackie didn’t care.

So what was it? Was she jealous of Lottie for doing something Jackie secretly wanted too? For getting close first?

She shook her head, forcing the thought away. She wasn’t going to obsess over it.

Sure, she wanted to be Shauna’s friend too—no big deal. Maybe she’d try to strike something up after the game, see if she could build a little friendship in their last year before college.

If Shauna did get into Rutgers, Jackie could keep her close, even then.

For now, she pushed it all away. She had a game to win in a few hours after all.

***

“Ah—Van! Please, be careful.” Laura Lee yelped softly as the soda the redhead was precariously trying to balance nearly spilled over her pristine white dress.

Van winced, muttering an apology before finally taking the seat on her right. On her left sat a tight-lipped Taissa.

Uh oh. Jackie winced. She’d have to check on that before the game. A stressed Tai meant a stressed team pace.

“She’s totally praying for God to send me to Hell tonight,” Van joked slyly to Nat, who’d been dragged there by her and Lottie.

The two snickered together like the evilish twins they were.

Jackie sighed, glancing over the rows as the lights began to dim.

“Waiting for someone special?” Nat teased from behind.

Jackie, who was about to bite her nails, froze and tilted her neck slightly. “Huh? Who?”

“Oh shit, I don’t know—your own personal little Shakespeare? Seriously I’m running out of names to call him besides his. You’ve been telling us all about it lately.” Nat pointed out.

Jackie’s eyes widened. Jeff. Right. He was supposed to sit next to her. She’d forgotten.

Forcing herself to focus, she immediately flashed a dazzling smile.

“Right. He told me he’s parking already.” Jackie hesitated, recalling the brief text they’d exchanged.

Jeff, her… uh, situationship? It was hard to define. Well, the boy who had sent her all those letters and, somehow, won her affection. Silly Jeff—perfectly nice, unusually sensitive, the kind of boy who made her blushy and giddy in a way she wasn’t used to.

Of course. She just wasn’t accustomed to it—having someone who seemed to really see her.

So she focused on that. Held onto that. Let herself think of that. She was just anxious about the game, that was all.

She did like Jeff. She like the way his eyes lit up when they fixated on her. How he anxiously swept his blonde hair back when talking. It felt easy to be with him. She glances one more time towards the exit, still nothing. 

The lights dimmed after a few minutes, and the first performances began. Jackie visibly cringed through Dylan’s set. He’d definitely gone… over the top—heavy metal blasting through speakers that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday, as he stomped around with pyrotechnics and stunts.

Most of the crowd roared for him like he was the second coming. Jackie clapped too, though more reservedly. She was supposed to keep up the girlfriend façade, after all. Honestly, she would’ve willingly given her slot to anyone else rather than sit through it.

As the unfortunate theater kids scrambled to clean up the wreckage, Jackie sighed and glanced toward the main entrance. Still no sign of Jeff.

“Shit, I’m so glad we sat in the back. Bet the front row lost their eyebrows,” Nat muttered, earning a round of chuckles and shudders from the others.

Finally, the announcer’s voice carried across the auditorium: “Shauna Shipman.”

Jackie’s back straightened ever so slightly before she even realized it. Her chest felt tight, as though the air itself had shifted. Curiosity pulled her forward in her seat, pulse quickening despite herself.

The room changed the second Shauna Shipman stepped into the light. Voices, whispers, laughter, all of it thinned into silence as the spotlight caught her. Everything went still, so still Jackie could hear her own breathing, the pounding rush of blood in her ears.

She looked… different. Like someone you had to look at twice. If you even managed to look away at all.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Someone cleans up well…” Van muttered low to Tai, who looked equally surprised. Even Lottie, who was usually buzzing with whispers or fidgeting at events like this, had gone quiet. 

The air shifted, as if something forced time to slow down in the way it did when you felt something magical was about to happen. For Jackie, it felt like the moment before fireworks went off. The few instant slices as everyone expected for bright color to go off into a dark sky. 

Shauna walked toward the stool, nerves betraying her in the small stiffness of her shoulders, the way panic flickered bright and raw in her wide brown eyes. Jackie’s heart clenched, inexplicably, at the sight of it. For a second she thought Shauna might actually bolt.

Then, after a squeak of sneakers somewhere off-stage that was hidden by the shadows, a second guitar slid across the floor toward her. Shauna bent for it, hands trembling slightly as she lifted it into her lap.

And with that, something shifted. She breathed. And when Shauna breathed, Jackie did too, chest loosening without permission.

But the relief was short-lived, because the moment Shauna’s fingers brushed the strings and her voice rose… clear, slightly trembling, impossibly earnest— Jackie forgot to breathe all over again.

Every word, every line hit like a gunshot. Composed, raw, and so utterly Shauna that Jackie knew no one else could have written them. It was a melody soaked in grief. Sorrowful, but touched with the bittersweet release that only time could give. Not a song that promised something greater waiting beyond. Just one that suggested you might, somehow, endure it all.

Jackie regretted every second slipping past, knowing she wouldn’t get them back. She wouldn’t get another moment of Shauna’s long brown hair tumbling from her shoulder, catching the stage lights like strands spun in gold. She wouldn’t get to hold onto those eyes, warm yet distant, as if they’d been carried somewhere far, far away. She wouldn’t get more of those lips—soft, flushed—shaping each sacred lyric with a reverence that could make the most devoted believer kneel in adoration.

Jackie noticed it. She noticed it all in that silence. And something unfamiliar, heavy, pressed down on her chest, constricting her breath until it almost hurt. Serenity bled into panic as the final notes faded, the spell lifting only to leave her with the haunting certainty that something had shifted. 

That something had changed and now she was left out in the cold to handle it.

Thunderous applause erupted, jolting her out of it. This time it wasn’t polite or scattered—it was strong, sustained. Loud and genuine, with even some of the parents and students rising to their feet.

Jackie glanced to her right.

Jeff’s seat was still empty.

***

Jackie was uncharacteristically quiet while the team pulled on their uniforms in the locker room, the air buzzing with chants and hollers.

The lowering sun cast everything in golden hues, warmth spilling across their skin.

Lacing her right boot, Jackie only noticed the sudden hush when it was too late. Her head snapped up, ponytail brushing the back of her neck. Dozens of expectant eyes—seniors and even a couple of JV girls lucky enough to play the first half—were fixed on her.

“So… where’s our Taylor Speech, Captain?” Van teased, fiddling with her gloves, velcro undone and redone, the ritual she always did before a game.

“Oh. Uh—right.” Jackie drew in a quick breath, standing as the captain persona slid into place. Relief flooded her chest—it was easier to be Captain Jackie than the girl stuck in her own thoughts. 

She climbed onto the bench, posture straightening with the poise of a Roman commander about to lead her troops into battle.

“Alright girls. First game. First chance to prove ourselves.” Her voice rang steady. She closed her eyes for half a second, inhaling the rush of what she loved: the game, the connection, the belonging. 

“We’ve worked our asses off for this. Learned how to be the best—not just for ourselves, but for each girl standing here.” She swept her arms wide, catching nods around the room.

“Because that’s what we are. Out there, I’m not Jackie Taylor. You’re not Lottie. You’re not Nat, or Tai, or Van, or Laura Lee, Akilah, Melissa, Mari—” She broke off, the silence hanging heavy. Then her voice cut sharp as glass: “Out there, we are Yellowjackets. There’s no I and Them. Just us. A team. A hive.”

The room erupted, whoops bouncing off the walls as arms linked around shoulders.

“So remember—we connect. We work together. We see each other.” Jackie jumped down, motioning them into a circle. Her voice rose, fierce and electric. “And most of all—we sting the shit out of whoever faces us. Am I clear?”

The answering roar shook the lockers, strong and confident, a war cry answered by hollers and whoops. One by one, the girls stormed out, falling into formation with ambition burning in their eyes. Hunger for the win carried them like fire.

Jackie lingered behind, watching them go. She didn’t even notice Lottie until a gentle hand pressed to her shoulder, making her jump.

“Hey. You okay? You’ve were a little… off before,” Lottie asked. Sweet, annoyingly perceptive Lottie.

Jackie snapped to it, smile flashing too fast, too bright, too rehearsed. “I’m good, Lottie. Why wouldn’t I be? We’re about to kick ass.” She added a wink for good measure.

But Lottie’s dark eyes lingered, searching, as though trying to puzzle out an answer to a question only she could form.

“Right. Okay,” she finally said, though it didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Good enough for Jackie. Because even she couldn’t explain what was going on in her head—or why, no matter how much she pushed forward, some part of her was still stuck back in that theater seat.

***

The smell of torn grass and dirt-stained shorts. The constant shouting—teammates calling for the ball, barking desperate directions, the sharp, ever-present voice of stressed-out coaches on the sidelines. The crowd chanting, roaring, the band thundering alongside them.

Jackie stood at the center of it all—always forward, always pushing, always hungry for that empty gap in the defensive wall. Her legs burned, sweat already sliding down her temple. She scanned the field, sharp eyes tracking the formation, making sure it held.

Jackie Taylor was born for this. That was one of the few truths she knew about herself. 

Her hair was blonde. Her eyes were hazel. She lived for soccer. 

These were unshakable, universal facts no one could take from her.

When Jackie had the ball at her feet, when she was in motion, these were the moments she felt truly free. Truly herself. Out here, there were no strict parents deciding what was best for her. No pressure to maintain flawless appearances. 

No need to apologize for being rough, for shoving and sliding across the ground to steal the ball.

 No looming dread of the suffocating “what’s next?”

Because here, she knew exactly who she was. A teammate. A captain. A Yellowjacket. She belonged on this field, a place she had carved out for herself with persistence and grit. It was hers. And it was steady.

Out here, her mind sharpened, attuned to Tai’s positioning in the middle of the storm before deciding where to send the ball, or to where Natalie waited, ready to receive the corner. The world narrowed down to a patch of green grass, formations and goalposts, nothing else.

And yet—today—her eyes kept drifting. To the empty edges of the field. To the blur of the faceless crowd. To places they shouldn’t. Between referee calls. During time-outs. In the cracks between plays. Always waiting for the flash of flannel and soft brown hair.

Even though the she was as sharp as ever, Coach Scott seemed to notice those lacking second of attention, and reaffirmed her with a “Taylor, focus on the game!” that got her slightly embarrassed. When the first time was over, they all rushed to get drinks and wipe the sweat off, adrenaline high.

Coach Ben offered her the water bottle.

“Jackie. I like the pressure. Keep pushing, but don’t overdo it—we’re ahead now, but strange things can happen out there.” His tone was firm, instructive. Jackie nodded, shoulders squared, but he lingered.

“Remember—push out any distractions.” The words came softer, heavy with tough love. Advice, but with an edge. She didn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t. Not right now.

The water was chilled perfectly, relief rushing down her throat as she drank half the bottle in one go. Her eyes slipped shut for just a second, savoring it—only to flick open and catch exactly what they’d been searching for.

She didn’t know why it sent a spark racing through her veins, but it did—the sight of the familiar figure near the bare netting, camera poised awkwardly in her hands. Shauna always looked a little uncomfortable in her own skin, shuffling slightly as though trying not to take up space. And yet her gaze—big, perceptive—swept across the field like it belonged there, sharp and intent on capturing the moment.

Jackie’s hand moved before she could stop it, waving high and enthusiastic, almost childlike. Embarrassment should’ve followed—Captain Jackie Taylor didn’t do goofy waves—but it didn’t. Not when Shauna’s head jerked up, when she returned the gesture with a shy little salute and the faintest, self-conscious smile.

Before Jackie could process it, the whistle pierced the air. Second half. Game back on.

The pressure hit instantly, heavier than the humid air clinging to her skin. But Jackie pushed forward without hesitation. She wouldn’t give the other team a single breath, wouldn’t let them crawl their way back. Even as her teammates groaned at her relentless calls to press higher, even as protest flickered in their voices, Jackie refused to slow down.

She was everywhere. Sharp, commanding, tireless. As if the first forty-five minutes had barely touched her. It didn’t matter that her lungs burned raw, that her leg muscles screamed, or that her voice had gone hoarse from barking out formations. Jackie thrived through it all.

She felt the eyes on her. The crowd. The lenses. And she wasn’t about to disappoint.

It came together in the final minutes—clean, fluid, perfect. Lottie baited the attack, holding just long enough for Tai to intercept and cut through the midfield. Tai swerved past two defenders, feeding the ball to Nat with a flash of precision. And then Nat was off, cutting like a blade through open grass. Jackie didn’t even have to look. She just knew.

The cross arced upward, blinding against the lights as it climbed. Jackie felt it before she saw it—the restless buzz in her legs, that instinct screaming for her to move, to finish.

She launched herself into the air, body twisting mid-flight to meet the ball in perfect sync as gravity pulled it back down.

Impact. Simple and clean, ringing up through her boot and humming through her skin like electricity.

The ball soared, driven by sheer force, and slammed into the upper left corner. The net rippled violently as if stricken by lightning. The goalie hadn’t stood a chance. 

A sweet, suspended silence. And then—thunder. Applause, stomps, hollers, the band exploding into rhythm.

Normally, Jackie would’ve sprinted across the field, hurling herself into her teammates’ arms, reveling in the noise and the celebration. But this time, her body moved differently. Adrenaline surged, dizzying, pulling her focus to only one place.

She didn’t even think. Her finger shot outward, cutting through the chaos, pointing directly at Shauna.

The two of them, locked across the field, stood in mirrored positions from that night in the auditorium. Jackie’s grin stretched wide, wild, unstoppable.

“That one’s for you, Shipman!” she shouted, voice bright with pride.

Her wide brown eyes went even bigger, the expression of a deer in headlights finally making sense to Jackie. But then came the faint pull of her lips.

Small, almost private, like it wasn’t meant for anyone but Jackie. Like she understood what was going on in her mind.

She didn’t have time to process it before the team crashed into her, arms locking around her shoulders, van and nat threatening to lift her halfway off the ground while lottie whooped in her ear, muffled by her heartbeat. 

Jackie managed to catch a glimpse of Shauna lifting her camera up to do a shot. 

***

“Thanks for the ride, Laura Lee! Are you sure you aren’t staying?” Jackie asked, even though she already knew the answer. The blonde gave her a polite but genuine smile, shaking her head. Jackie closed the door and walked toward the half-open window.

“All right, but you better come have our celebratory dinner with us Saturday,” she threatened jokingly.

Laura Lee nodded. “Aye aye, captain! Be careful, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she called as Jackie walked away.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Jackie played along, even though they both knew the list of things Laura Lee wouldn’t do wasn’t particularly aligned with Jackie’s.

The night was already cold. Jackie was grateful she wore her varsity jacket. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open again, instantly flashing her all-winning grin that earned immediate hollers as she strolled inside.

“Jackie! Hi!”

“Congrats on your win! Your girls were amazing.”

“Oh my god, look who just came in.”

Everything rushed over her like a shockwave—greetings, praise, whispers of awe. She’d heard it all. Jackie urged herself not to flinch at the chatter or the pounding music vibrating in her chest. She gave herself two seconds to close her eyes, then opened them and moved through the crowd, smiling, chatting, waving at familiar faces that blurred together in a sea of sound.

It was easy when you had it all planned out. Like rehearsing lines for the right people to leave them satisfied enough that your image stayed impeccable. Exhausting—but effective.

Her body felt fidgety, moving and swerving, dancing briefly from one point of the house to another, until she caught the comforting sight of her team, already gathered at the makeshift bar.

“These girls, already getting drunk,” she whispered under her breath, a hidden fondness tugging at her chest. But before she could take another step, a hesitant shadow fell across her path.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Well, hello,” she chirped. Jeff grinned, big and dumb, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Hi, Jackie,” he said. “Heard you won. Nice.”

Jackie smiled but hesitated. “You couldn’t make it at the end?” she asked.

“No, I…uh…I had things to do, but I bet you were amazing.” He tried, and it was enough for Jackie to nod in agreement. “And I can ask Shauna to see the photos later, too.”

Unconsciously, her hands went to her collar, brushing against the neckline of her dress. “That’s cool. You two are close, right?”

Jeff’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth opening in a half-stutter as if caught off guard. “I-I mean, yeah, sure. She’s…pretty cool. Tutored me and…stuff.” He gulped, avoiding eye contact for a second. 

Jackie chalked it up to him being his usual awkward self but mentally noted it for later.

“Is she here?” she asked, feigning casualness, though her hopes were low—Shauna Shipman was not the partying type.

“Yeah, yeah. Managed to convince her to come out for once,” Jeff declared proudly, pointing to where Jackie was looking.

She followed his gesture, catching a glimpse of wavy dark hair and the maroon silk that signaled Shauna’s presence.

Her feet moved before her mind caught up.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Let’s go say hello,” Jeff muttered under his breath, falling in step behind her.

What could she say?

Seeing Shauna at a party felt like glimpsing an oasis in a desert—too surreal to believe. And as each step carried her closer, a flicker of doubt gnawed at her: what if it was just a trick of the light, a fantasy?

But it was real. She caught the side profile of Shauna, mouth slightly quirked as she listened to someone Jackie couldn’t quite hear, lips swallowing the contents of her plastic cup, the faintest pressure of her hand cracking at the plastic’s resistance.

“Wowza, Shipman. Didn’t peg you for a drinker,” Jackie teased softly, her tone familiar, like it had been rehearsed over field practices or quick hallway encounters.

Shauna choked on a laugh, coughing slightly, and Jackie noticed Lottie standing beside her the whole time, hands gently moving in soothing circles over Shauna’s back—up, down, right, left—a casual intimacy that made Jackie squint in barley hidden surprise.

When the coughing subsided, Jackie leaned in slightly.

“I loved your performance, Shauna,” she said, softer now, letting honesty slip through. “I… I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, really.”

She was used to throwing compliments around here and there. People around her craved them constantly and she didn’t have much trouble offering them. But something about the way she said it to shauna—low, a little too honest—made her skin burn in a way that wasn’t normal. She caught herself overthinking it almost immediately. Was it too much? Too breathy? too revealing?

Then shauna smiled. Small. Real. Like it was meant only for her.

“Thanks, jackie. you uh…scored.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement, but it was enough to drag a laugh out of Jackie and pull her back to her usual footing.

“I sure did. Thanks to you.” She leaned into it, punctuating with a wink. There was something delicious about watching shauna squirm, fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt, as if the fabric could shield her from jackie’s attention. Boundaries, jackie reminded herself. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly needed the reminder.

“Wait, Shauna helped you practice?” Jeff cut in, and jackie was embarrassingly reminded he was still standing there. God, maybe she really was more tired from the game than she thought.

“Yup. She’s good. You could still sign up for the team, Shauna. We’d find a spot for you.” She kept teasing, but the idea didn’t sound half bad.

Van chuckled under her breath, the sound almost drowned out by the music, but tai—who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere—leveled jackie with a look. Sharp. Assessing. 

The kind of look she usually reserved for an opponent on the field she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Jackie’s smile faltered for the briefest second. What the hell was that about?

Before she could ask, Shauna nearly jumped out of her skin, snatching another cup from Nat as if it was a lifeline. “So… what do you all do for fun around here?” she asked, voice too eager.

Lottie, quiet until then, swept in like a curtain call. “Glad you asked! shall we?” she grinned, holding out her arm with dramatic flair. Shauna didn’t hesitate, looping her arm through Lottie’s, and before Jackie could say a word, they were gone—swallowed into the mass of the party.

Jackie stood there a beat too long, the music pressing in as she stared until they were out of sight.

Chapter Text

The rest of the night went in the usual rhythm. Jackie floundering around in different social groups, smiling and laughing and drinking mainly sprite. She could not go to her house drunk, her mom would notice even if she sneaked in. 

The only things that were different were two people, it seemed. Jeff and Shauna. Both were question marks in her otherwise established routine. It made her antsy. Which, in turn, made her vulnerable to attacks. The most recent one showed up in the form of Tai and Nat—an unusual but quite dangerous duo if they somehow managed to agree.

“Sooo…” Nat slurred, her pupils already dilated enough for Jackie to know she was high. “What was that about?”

“What was what?” Jackie repeated, slipping away from a conversation with Mari—one she was already half-zoned out in—to get some distance. As much as she respected Mari as a teammate, the girl had a big mouth.

“The whole dedication thing,” Tai emphasized, her tone balanced between serious and suspicious. “You never dedicate your goals.”

Jackie let out a slightly awkward laugh, helping herself to a beer. She didn’t say anything about not being tipsy. “So? It’s not that big of a deal. Maybe because I…”

Her voice faltered slightly, her brain catching up to her mouth. Maybe because I didn’t have anyone I wanted to dedicate one to.

“It was just a…nice gesture,” she finished instead, cringing ever so slightly at how weak it sounded.

Tai raised an eyebrow. “A nice gesture.” The emphasis she put on those two words felt like an accusation in a trial Jackie never agreed to be part of.

So she did what she did best: escape.

Her eyes darted around, searching for an out until they landed on a tall figure hovering nearby.

“Jeff! I love this song, let’s dance!” she called, her words stumbling but her voice still carrying that confident, charismatic lilt she always put on.

Jeff, who had very obviously been pretending not to linger, snapped his head toward her and nodded eagerly.

“See you later, girls,” Jackie sighed, forcing a casual smile as she excused herself and made a beeline to the makeshift dance floor.

Running. Not even knowing from what exactly.

Fantasy by Mariah Carey hummed low, the beat vibrating through the cheap yet loud speakers, rattling straight into Jackie’s rib cage. She let Jeff’s hands rest—slightly rigid—at her waist, her arms looping easily around his shoulders. She hadn’t gone to all those waltz classes her mom forced her into for nothing.

She allowed herself a breath. Jeff’s cologne—sandalwood and pine—mixed with the lingering scent of sweat and alcohol hanging in the air. It almost made her sneeze.

Her eyes searched his face, really looked at him for what felt like the first time. The face of her messenger. The boy who had won her heart with words scrawled on notebook paper, with late-night texts that made her blush beneath the covers.

He was cute, Jackie decided. Blonde, hair buzzed short at the edges, light blue eyes that glimmered with boyish warmth, a crooked smile. They probably looked like a textbook couple—the sweetheart all-American dream. The high school pride and her boy who quoted classics, who took photos just to show her the world.

It could be nice, she thought. Better than Dylan. At least with Jeff she wouldn’t have to deal with her parents’ pushy smiles at Christmas dinners, pretending like they weren’t secretly relieved to see her with someone “acceptable.” Jeff was warm. Jeff was nice. He had a charm born of teenage naïveté and a genuinely good heart.

Jackie yelped.

“Sorry—” Jeff apologizes quickly, flinching, guilt written all over his face.

Jackie shrugged it off. “That’s fine. I only know how because my parents forced me to.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, heat prickling at the back of her neck. The room was starting to feel too warm, too tight.

“You went to dance?” he asked, surprised.

She nodded. “Yeah. I hated it though. I used to sneak out through the fence and head into the woods nearby. That’s how I met Fitzgerald, actually.” Her tone softened with enthusiasm, the familiar comfort of their usual, secret conversations.

Jeff’s brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his face before he tried to smooth it over. “Right…Fitzgerald.” He echoed the name like it was foreign on his tongue.

Jackie tilted her head, her smile faltering. “Yeah. The fox?”

Jeff gave a quick nod, eyes briefly unfocused, as though he’d forgotten.

“Oh, um… foxes.” He stumbled, lost. “I’m not really a fan of them. Had a bad encounter with one when I was a kid. Their sounds kind of freak me out.” He laughed weakly, like it was supposed to be a joke.

“Right. I mean, like that song, yeah? The one that came out years ago?” Jackie replied, her smile bright and blinding, practiced enough to cover the sudden sting of confusion.

He matched it, looking relieved. She shifted her arms around his neck, forcing herself to melt into the rhythm, into the press of music and chatter and heat that crowded the room. Anything to drown out the tiny, insistent tug in her chest.

This wasn’t the time for doubts. Not tonight. Tonight she was supposed to celebrate her win, her team, her moment. Supposed to dance with the boy who’d sent her letters and made her heart stutter. Supposed to enjoy it, even if she couldn't quite fall into rhythm.

So she laughed—too high, too airy—and tilted her head down, feigning coyness to hide the crack in her composure. “Anyway,” she teased, voice dipping playfully, “enough about foxes. You owe me a spin, yeah?”

Jeff brightened, nodding enthusiastically as he fumbled for her hand, spinning her clumsily before pulling her back against him.

And Jackie let herself twirl, her loose hair and lowly dress spinning in the dim lights.

***

Hours went by like that—her and Jeff sharing simple conversations, dancing lazily between songs. Jackie floated between faces, engaging in irrelevant small talk and accepting the double-bladed compliments that came her way.

She didn’t notice at first how her breathing had started to turn shallow, or how her palms grew damp. The air inside was thick with warmth and humidity, clinging to her skin until her clothes felt too tight in all the wrong places.

Slightly mistepping, she brushed past a group smoking near the exit—and then she saw Jeff, heading her way again.

Jackie froze. She couldn’t let him see her like this, could she?
Yes, maybe she’d already given him a fraction of her soul through late-night letters and careful words, but this—this raw, visible vulnerability seeping through her—felt so wrong.

Before she could think twice, she bolted. She slipped past a couple making out on the stairs, sidestepped their tangled limbs, and pushed through the door into the backyard.

The air hit her like a slap—cold, sharp, clean. It burned going down her throat, but it was real. Grounding.

Seeing no one she knew, she let her body rest against one of the porch’s wooden columns, her hand pressing against her chest as if she could calm the frantic beating beneath it.

Taking deep breaths, her fingers fidgeted with the necklace resting against her collarbone—the overrated metal cool and solid beneath her touch. She let her eyes drift, finally breaking free of the tunnel vision that had caged her, and that’s when she saw her.

Sitting on Mar’s old swing, gently swaying back and forth. Her head was bowed slightly, a curtain of brown hair falling forward and obscuring her face. It was the first time all night Jackie had seen her without Lottie clinging to her side. She’d ask about that later—maybe.

Her legs started moving before she even realized it, the dirt beneath her shoes crunching softly with every step, dry branches snapping underfoot. And still, the other girl didn’t look up.

“Is this seat taken?” she said softly, playful — just enough to sound casual.

And yet, she had to hold back a laugh when Shauna jumped a little, her drink — which she’d been staring at like it held the answers to the universe — spilling across the ground.

“Shit,” she cursed, trying to wipe it up. Her voice sounded scratchy, like she hadn’t used it in a while.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Jackie apologized, even if there wasn’t much regret in her tone. Maybe she just liked seeing Shauna’s wide brown eyes staring up at her. Was that a strange thing to admit?

When Shauna finally nodded toward the swing beside her, Jackie took it without hesitation, shivering a bit as the metal creaked softly beneath her weight.

“S’fine,” Shauna muttered, not really looking at her anymore. From the way her words slurred slightly, she’d definitely had more to drink than Jackie. And given that Shauna Shipman didn’t really do parties, Jackie figured her alcohol tolerance was probably low.

“How many drinks have you had, Shipman?”

”Not enough…” Shauna huffs, an involuntary snort scraping Jackie before she could cover it.

The clearing seemed to brighten for a moment, the cloudy sky shifting to reveal the moon — full and sharp. Its light shimmered faintly in Shauna’s eyes when they flicked down to Jackie’s chest. Jackie felt her face warm a little.

“Where did you get that?” Shauna blurted suddenly, as if the question had been waiting for an opening.

Understanding passed over Jackie’s features. “My grandmother gave it to me,” she offered, her hand instinctively brushing the pendant before she went on. “Just a bit before she… you know.”

Her throat tightened. It had been a long time since she’d talked about her grandmother — Elizabeth Taylor, her father’s mother. One of the only people in her family who ever saw her as more than a project to perfect.

“She said it reminded her of me when she saw it. Shiny, golden yet—”

“Solid?” Shauna breathed out the word for her, catching her off guard.

A timid smile curved at Jackie’s lips. The sudden tightness that had held her face for most of the night slipped away.

“Yes, actually. Most people usually just go with delicate, though.”

The corner of Shauna’s mouth twitched. “Not saying you aren’t—but I think solid fits better.”

There was something in the way she said it — like she meant it. Truly meant it. The haze of alcohol softened her eyes, but her words landed steady and sure.

Jackie fidgeted a little on the plastic seat, feeling the weight of the silence that followed and deciding to do something about it. “Oh really?” she pressed, her voice dipping a bit lower, slower. “Why’s that?”

“Well…” Shauna started, as if she were really thinking hard about it, even though her face was alight with a sort of smugness that looked… good on her. Had Jackie ever seen her like that before?

“First of all, I recall someone knocking me on my ass in the hallway.” She pointed a finger at her. “And then, knocking me on my ass again with a hundred-mile-an-hour football right to the face.”

A cackle escaped Jackie before she could stop it, her mouth falling open in mock indignation. “Okay, wow — not my fault you don’t have a center of gravity.”

Shauna leaned forward, grinning, her tone dripping with mock dramatics that made it even harder for Jackie to hide her amusement. “Damn, Taylor, now you’re blaming the victim? Maybe you’re not such a perfect little goody two-shoes after all.”

Jackie smirked at that, deciding to push back. “Never said I was.”

That look on Shauna’s face — that fleeting second of stunned silence that deepened into something darker in her eyes — made Jackie’s adrenaline spike, like the rush right after scoring a goal. Suddenly, she wasn’t cold anymore. Somewhere in the middle of their banter, one of them had shifted closer, and she couldn’t tell who.

Shauna coughed lightly, the bravado slipping back under her usual careful composure. “Right.” She muttered it more to herself, fingers curling around the swing’s metal chains like they were the only thing keeping her upright. A small giggle slipped through her lips — light, airy, and strange against Jackie’s sensible ears. She couldn’t help but smile at it.

“Forgot about the whole ‘badass captain of the football team’ thing,” Shauna teased, her voice softer now. “You are a jock, after all.”

Jackie scoffed, her shoulder brushing against hers. “So dramatic, Shipman. You act like I ruined your whole life.”

Shauna’s smile didn’t fade. They were close enough now for Jackie to notice the smaller things — the slight droop of her lashes, the faint scar on the bridge of her nose, and the way her irises shimmered faintly under the silver hue of the moon.

“Yeah, well…” Shauna whispered, so low Jackie might’ve missed it if they weren’t this close. “Maybe you did.”

For a heartbeat, Jackie froze. A spark jolted through her, sharp and strange, making her swallow hard at the unfamiliar feeling curling in her chest. She tried to categorize it — to make sense of the way those quiet words seemed to tug at something deep inside her — but nothing fit.

Nothing she had ever known before did.

Before she could make sense of it — before she could even try to answer back with words that escaped her — a figure approached, breaking the moment.

Tai appeared, looking exasperated, tired, and worried as her eyes landed on Shauna.

The brunette turned at the sound of her name, grinning dopily.
“Hey, Taiii! Watch—what’re you doin—”

And then the color drained from her face. Jackie barely had a fraction of a second to move aside before Shauna doubled over, emptying her stomach in Tai’s direction.

“Jesus, fuck—Shauna!” Tai yelped immediately, fumbling to step back before catching her as she stumbled forward. “How many drinks have you had? Shit. Someone help me deal with this—Mari! No! Get away from the pool! Van! Don’t fucking follow her!”

Jackie stood frozen for a beat, the whiplash of the sudden chaos hitting her like cold water.

As Tai rushed off, muttering curses and chasing after Mari and Van before they could actually cannonball into the pool from the treehouse, Jackie moved.

She took Tai’s place, steadying Shauna by the shoulders just as she swayed again. The smell of cheap beer and sickness stung her nose, but she didn’t pull away.

When Shauna lurched forward to vomit again, Jackie was already there—one hand tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, the other gathering her hair and holding it up in a makeshift ponytail.

“Huh,” she murmured quietly, almost to herself, “softer than I thought it’d be.”

Then, more gently, she said, “Yup, just get it out, Shipman.”

Shauna groaned between short, shallow breaths, her frame trembling. When it finally seemed to be over, Jackie crouched beside her, speaking softly.

“Hey… think you can stand?”

Shauna blinked, then nodded sluggishly. Jackie slipped an arm around her shoulders and helped her up. They were around the same height, so it wasn’t too difficult to steady her—though Shauna leaned heavily against her, her knees wobbling like she might crumble any second.

Jackie’s arm tightened instinctively around her waist, holding her upright as they made it a few steps away from the mess.

Just as she looked up, she saw Lottie, Jeff, and Tai approaching—the latter dragging a scolded Van and Mari behind her like two guilty children.

“She okay?” Lottie asked gently, concern softening her voice.

Jackie opened her mouth to respond, but Shauna lifted her head at the sound of Lottie’s voice and practically lit up.

“Lottie! You’re here! That’s great!” she beamed, wriggling out of Jackie’s hold with more enthusiasm than coordination. She stumbled forward, right into Lottie’s arms.

“Damn, you’re so tall-…tallish.” Shauna mumbled against her shoulder, her words tumbling over one another. “Did you know that? How did you—how did you get tallish? Do you like it?”

Lottie let out a quiet laugh, catching her easily, brushing a few stray strands of hair from Shauna’s face.

Jackie’s jaw tightened. The arm that had been holding Shauna just moments ago suddenly felt cold and useless at her side.

“Oh, wow. She’s out of it,” Jeff muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “C’mon, Shauna, let’s get you home—”

But before he could reach her, Shauna groaned and swatted weakly in his direction, missing by several inches.

“N-no. No house,” she slurred. “Mom’s… Mom is sleeping. I don’t wanna wake her.”

Her voice softened on the last word, heavy with something that made Jeff’s expression shift to something knowing, something sympathetic. Jackie noticed it immediately, that quiet understanding between them. She didn’t know why it made her chest tighten the way it did.

Tai sighed, crossing her arms. “Well, she can’t stay at mine. My parents are hosting one of those stupid dinner things for work.”

“I can take her,” Lottie said, steadying Shauna, who was half-asleep against her shoulder. “Once she sobers up a bit she’ll change her mind. Don’t worry.”

Then she turned toward Jackie. “You need a ride home?”

Jackie hesitated. The question hung between them for a beat too long. For some reason—something she couldn’t quite name—the sight of Shauna nestled comfortably against Lottie’s shoulder made her stomach twist.

Before she could find an answer, Jeff spoke up, his voice a little too eager. “I can take you home, if you want.”

Jackie looked at him. His smile was boyish, hopeful.

Something about that steadiness—his simplicity—was grounding, almost comforting. And her parents would kill her if she missed curfew again.

She forced a small smile. “Sure…. Thanks, Jeff. But I’ll see you tomorrow Lot.”

As they started walking back toward the car, Jackie let herself glance over her shoulder once.Lottie was whispering something too soft to hear as she gently seated her inside the house. Shauna giggling and rambling, eyes half-lidded, leaning closer.

Jackie immediately looked away, following Jeff to his steel-gray car. Once inside, she fastened her seatbelt and wrapped her arms around herself, a sudden chill crawling up her skin. The night’s warmth had vanished, leaving only the faint hum of the engine and the lingering echo of laughter from the house.

As Jeff started the car, her eyes caught something red in the backseat. Curiosity tugged at her. She reached back and pulled it closer, the fabric soft and worn beneath her fingers. Under the dim yellow glow of the car’s interior light, she saw what it was — a vivid red flannel. Familiar somehow.

“Do you mind if I put this on?” Jackie asked, her voice quiet, almost shy.

Jeff glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he shifted into reverse, one hand on the wheel, the other braced on the headrest.

“Huh? Oh, yeah — sure. That’s Shauna’s, actually. Must’ve left it. Go for it, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Jackie hesitated for half a second before pulling it on. The fabric was still faintly warm, carrying a scent she hadn’t realized she already knew — tones of coffee beans and ink. She tightened her hold around it, the sleeves hanging loose on her wrists. So that’s why it felt familiar.

She leaned her head against the window, watching the world blur past in streaks of light and shadow, and let the faint trace of Shauna’s scent linger.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes and replayed memories — Shauna’s half-smile in the moonlight, the warmth of her shoulder brushing against hers, the conversation. The sharp turn from something almost sweet to something messy and real.

By the time she finally drifted off, the flannel was still draped around her shoulders, her room dim and quiet except for the restless hum inside her chest.

***

Jackie yawned as she got out of her car the next morning. She’d barely managed to sleep at all. It definitely didn’t help getting home just before curfew, her parents wearing that same disappointed look — like they cared enough to judge but not enough to ask.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Robinson!” Jackie chirped, smile stretched wide and polite—too wide, too polite, and clearly fake—as she slipped past her after at least ten solid minutes of convincing her to let her in. Lottie’s maid / nanny / butler had never been a fan of hers.

Ever since eleven-year-old Jackie accidentally set the toaster on fire, she’d been on her blacklist. Talk about holding a grudge. It wasn’t like Lottie’s dad couldn’t just buy the whole toaster company if needed.

She skipped up the stairs with practiced ease, the path through the sprawling house carved deep into her memory. 

In her hand, she twirled a fresh Polaroid—last night’s shot of the tall grass near her place, fireflies swirling like flecks of gold. 

A sight she’d caught while wandering the backyard, unable to sleep. Lottie would appreciate it. She’d had that weird bug obsession back in ninth grade.

Besides, Jackie liked to think she’d gotten better. Ever since Jeff pitched the idea of that photo game, she’d kept at it, especially after the mural disaster. Maybe she’d even show him some of her latest shots. 

Maybe it’d be nice sharing something real with him again. If only to take her mind off… other things.

“Lottie! Your Alfred finally let me in—almost had to fight her for it!” Jackie called, pushing open the door without waiting for an answer as she usually did. 

A decision she instantly regretted.

She’d never been good with boundaries or polite etiquette, barging into spaces like they were hers to enter. This time, it came back to bit her in the ass.

Because there, in plain sight, was Lottie Matthews—practically on top of Shauna Shipman.

In another context, maybe it wouldn’t have looked so damning. But Jackie had walked in just as Lottie’s hand tugged at Shauna’s pants waistband, the other next to Shaunas head, pinning her. Shauna under her and sprawled out across the bed, semi-half propped on her elbows. 

The motion froze mid-action, making it look even worse—harder to explain away. Especially when Lottie’s knee was just shy of being planted firmly between Shauna’s thighs.

And then came the worst part—the part that made Jackie’s skin drain white before flushing into a furious, burning red: Shauna herself.

She wasn’t wearing that fitted maroon blouse from the night before. No—she wore one of Lottie’s sleep shirts, far too long yet still clinging in places it shouldn’t make Jackie’s eyes linger. 

Jackie’s eyes betrayed her before her brain could catch up. They lingered—just for a second—on the small strip of skin at the top of Shauna’s thighs, exposed where the hem had ridden up. Her breath hitched, her heartbeat spiking as a rush of heat ignited in her chest. She should look away. She couldn’t.

Instead, her eyes betrayed her once again, flickering to Shauna’s face, and something low and dangerous stirred inside her at the sight. 

Her hair was a mess, tangled like she’d just rolled out of bed, and somehow it still managed to look so good, falling over one shoulder in soft waves. Her eyes were wide and glassy, cheeks flushed in a way Jackie couldn’t mistake, lips rosy and recently bitten—frozen mid-breath.

The warmth of her chest traveling south like an unstoppable flame. 

The feeling, so new, so raw, jerked her back to reality.

What the hell are you doing, Jackie? she scolded herself, jerking her eyes  away. Snap out of it. You shouldn't be looking- wait why am I still looking?-

Shauna yelped, scrambling back and absolutely mortified. Lottie, of course, looked totally unfazed. Unbothered. Like being caught mid-something was nothing at all.

Like her being on top of a flushed Shauna Shipman was any normal Saturday morning. 

Well, maybe it was-

Jackie let out a humiliating squeak, her whole body finally jerking into movement as she whipped around, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Shit—fuck—I’m sorry! Sorry!” she stammered, panic crackling through every syllable.

She didn’t wait for an explanation, or Shauna’s protests, or even one of Lottie’s infuriatingly calm. 

She slammed the door shut so hard it rattled the walls, immediately walking away with her face feeling like it caught on fire.

Her stomach dropped, an uncomfortable, heavy weight making her feel disgusting in her own skin.

Panic bells rang in her brain, jolting every single nerve awake. The sickness weaving through her stomach as she asked herself a single question.

“Shit, am I…homophobic?” She mutters.