Faster than the speed of sound
Jackie wakes to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. Her favorite- God, Shauna knew her so well.
It’s like being smothered, but in the way that chocolate and sugar smother you—warm, comforting, sweet in a way that makes you want to sink into it and forget everything else. It pulls her from sleep like an anchor, and for a second, she wishes she could stay floating, stay in the haze of last night, the last few hours still untouchable, like they didn’t actually happen. But they did. And Shauna's somewhere in the kitchen, and Jackie can’t pretend that she’s not thinking about it. About her.
The sunlight hits her face, sharp and unforgiving. She’s supposed to get up. Supposed to go out there and pretend nothing has shifted. Pretend she didn’t feel something crack when Shauna’s hands brushed hers last night. But it’s all too much, too fast, too close.
Jackie drags herself out of bed, her head pounding, skin sticky from whatever drinks she had at the party, some sick concoction of Malibu and Milk. She’s not ready for this. Not ready for Shauna—not in the way she feels like she should be. The girl who barely speaks. Who wears flannel like it’s armor. Who looks like she’s made of shadows, but Jackie sees the way she watches, the way she stays just a little bit too quiet.
She steps into the kitchen and Shauna’s there, her back to Jackie, flipping pancakes. Her strong back illuminated, the light gleaming on her nape, glowing. There’s something about the way she moves—slow, deliberate—that makes Jackie’s heart stumble in her chest. She’s used to people—used to knowing where she stands with them. But Shauna? Shauna doesn’t let you stand anywhere.
“Morning,” Jackie says, even though it doesn’t feel like morning. It feels like they’re still somewhere in the middle of last night, somewhere between drunken jokes and the mess of tangled limbs.
Shauna doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge her. The pancake sizzles like it’s waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. Not yet.
Jackie leans against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. Her voice comes out like a whisper, too careful, like she’s testing the air. “Hello? Earth to Shauna? Say something.”
Shauna’s shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t need to. Jackie knows what the silence means. It’s too loud. It’s a dare, and Shauna’s too good at pretending she’s not afraid. But Jackie’s not afraid anymore. She’s already in this. She just doesn’t know how to get out of it.
“I don't need to say anything,” Shauna mutters, flipping the pancake with too much care, like she’s trying to control something that’s already out of her hands.
Jackie watches her. The way her fingers wrap around the spatula. The way Shauna moves, like she’s waiting for Jackie to say something. Like she doesn’t want to be the one to make the first move. But Jackie doesn’t play by those rules. She never has.
“I'm sorry. You don’t have to,” Jackie says, leaning in closer, her voice a little sharper than it needs to be.
“I know.”
Shauna finally turns her head, just enough to look at her from the corner of her eye. The look she gives Jackie is something Jackie’s seen before—quiet, cautious, like Shauna’s trying to figure out if this is worth it. Jackie can see the hesitation, the tension threading between them like a wire pulled too tight.
But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.
Jackie steps forward, close enough to feel the heat radiating from Shauna’s skin, close enough to reach out and touch her if she wanted to. But she doesn’t. Not yet. There’s too much unsaid. Too much untouched. She’s already been this close before—too many times. Every time Shauna’s eyes catch hers, every time she brushes against her by accident, Jackie feels it, the pull.
Shauna doesn’t back away. Doesn’t step back, even though Jackie’s so close she could feel her breath on her neck if she moved just an inch.
“I don’t want to play anymore,” Jackie says, but it’s not the truth. The truth is she does want to play. She wants to tear it all down, rip apart whatever this thing between them is, but she’s too scared to look at it full on. She’s too scared to be honest with herself.
Shauna doesn’t say anything. Just picks up her fork and starts eating the pancakes like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like nothing’s changed.
And it pisses Jackie off.
The silence stretches between them, thick like it’s made of something solid. Something unbreakable. Jackie wants to snap it, wants to break it open and see what’s inside. But she doesn’t. She just stands there, trying to figure out what to do next. What she’s supposed to feel. What she’s supposed to want.
“Are you really going to say nothing?” Jackie says, her voice sharper than it’s been before. “Did Randy make you that upset?”
She knows it's not about Randy. It's become some grotesque euphemism for their soul crushing entanglement.
Shauna doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look up. But Jackie can see her jaw tighten, the way her eyes dart toward the window like she’s trying to find somewhere to run. Jackie wants to scream, wants to grab her and pull her back into the moment, make her look at her, make her see what Jackie already knows.
“You’re not invisible, you know,” Jackie says, quieter this time, softer, but still laced with something sharp. Something that says she knows exactly what Shauna needs to hear, but she’s not sure she can give it to her.
Shauna’s eyes flicker toward her, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. Shauna's eyes glimmer in the sun.
Jackie steps closer, just enough that the space between them is smaller now. Shauna’s breath catches in her throat, and Jackie’s heart stutters. It’s like they’re both playing this stupid game, pretending like they don’t want this, pretending like they don’t need this. Like they don’t need each other.
But they do. They both do.
“I’m not playing,” Jackie says again, but this time, it doesn’t sound like a challenge. It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. Trying to convince Shauna. But it’s not working. It never does.
The silence sits between them, heavy and thick, and for a moment, Jackie wonders if Shauna’s going to say something. Anything. But Shauna doesn’t. She just picks up her fork again and keeps eating, and Jackie’s left standing there, wondering if she’s been playing the game all along.
But Shauna's already gone. She’s been gone for a while.
And Jackie ...Jackie's already following her, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
The silence stretches between them like a chord pulled too tight, like it might snap if either of them says the wrong thing. But neither of them speaks.
They sit in silence in the car on the way to school.
No Liz Phair, No Backstreet Boys, just the hum of their heartbeats