Bed Chem
Jackie leans back in her chair, legs stretched out under the desk, fingers tapping against her notebook, an idle rhythm that feels too loud. Her gaze flicks toward Shauna. Shauna is still, as usual—head slightly bent, her dark hair falling over the side of her face, making her look almost like she’s disappearing into the air. Jackie watches the way Shauna’s hand holds her pen, tight but controlled, the slight curve of her knuckles. Shauna’s always like this. Always precise, always deliberate, like she’s trying to control the space between them, trying to keep it from getting too close. Too real.
Jackie tilts her head, eyes narrowing with the sort of curiosity that’s half play, half a dare. She watches Shauna’s lips move, the soft press of her mouth as she reads through the lab instructions. God, the way Shauna doesn’t even flinch when Jackie looks at her, like it’s nothing. Jackie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like how Shauna’s so good at being invisible.
She shifts in her seat and lets her voice slip out, teasing, soft. “What’s the matter with you, Shauna?.”
Shauna doesn’t look up. She’s still reading, her brow furrowing slightly, but Jackie can tell it’s not because she’s trying to understand chemistry. It’s the way Shauna’s shoulders tighten just the slightest bit, like she’s bracing herself. Jackie doesn’t need to know exactly what Shauna’s thinking to know she’s pulled away—she’s always pulled away.
Shauna’s eyes flicker to the corner of the page, tracing the lines with her pen. “Just focusing, I need a 5 on this” she mutters. It’s flat. It’s nothing.
Jackie watches her for a moment longer. She can feel the static between them, thick and warm. She’s not going to back off, not this time. Not when she’s already this close to breaking whatever wall Shauna’s built around herself. Jackie leans forward just a bit, elbows resting on the edge of her desk, her chin propped up in her hand, smiling like she’s about to push Shauna into something she doesn’t want to say.
“Focusing?” she repeats, dragging out the word like it’s a joke. “So *not* having fun. I get it.”
Shauna’s pen scratches against the paper as she continues to ignore Jackie. Jackie feels the silence press down on her, thick, sticky, like they’re locked inside a room neither of them knows how to escape from. But it’s also... something else, something more—something Jackie can’t quite name but feels all the way in her chest, deep and aching, like she’s holding onto something and she doesn’t even know why.
“You know,” Jackie says, tilting her head, her voice taking on that teasing edge again, “you could at least pretend to react. Makes it more fun.”
There. It’s out. The game, the thing she’s been circling, hoping Shauna will bite, hoping Shauna will give her something. She’s not sure what it is exactly she wants, but she’s sure she wants to see Shauna crack. To see the wall come down, to see her look at Jackie for once, really look at her and not hide behind that mask of indifference.
Shauna’s eyes flick to hers. Just a flicker. Barely a glance. But it’s enough for Jackie to feel the tension snap between them, like an electric current, just for a second. Shauna’s lips press together, and her gaze shifts back to the page.
Jackie’s fingers tighten around the edge of her notebook. Her heart jumps in her chest. She can feel the knot of frustration curl tighter inside her.
She wants to see her. Wants to make Shauna feel something. Anything. But Shauna won’t let her.
And Jackie doesn’t know if it’s because Shauna’s playing hard to get or because she really doesn’t care. Either way, it’s messing with her. The way Shauna doesn’t react, the way she stays so calm, as if Jackie is just some irritating noise she’s too polite to respond to.
“You’re not that good at pretending,” Jackie murmurs, her voice quieter now, softer, almost like she’s trying to crack Shauna open with a whisper.
Shauna’s eyes flash up again, but there’s no fire there. It’s the same cool indifference, like Jackie’s just another voice in the background. Shauna’s gaze flickers over her like she’s nothing more than the chalk dust in the air, unnoticed, unimportant.
Jackie’s chest tightens, her stomach flipping as the frustration burns a little brighter. She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to feel *this* much for someone who can’t even bother to look her in the eye.
“I don’t need to pretend,” Shauna says finally, her voice low, steady, like she’s not even trying. Like it doesn’t matter what Jackie says, what Jackie does, it’s all just noise.
And something inside Jackie snaps. The tightness in her chest, the way Shauna makes everything feel like it’s not real unless Shauna allows it to be. The way Shauna just *exists* in her space, unaffected, detached, like she can’t be touched.
Jackie leans forward again, too close now, too close for the game they’re supposed to be playing. The words slip out before she can stop them.
“Yeah, you do,” she says, quieter, dangerous. “You pretend so well. They should just put you with the theater kids, Shipman, maybe then you can suck each other's faces off”
It comes out too cruel. Jackie knows Shauna understands though.
Shauna’s lips press together, her brows furrowing, and for a moment, Jackie swears she sees the flash of something—something flicker in her eyes. But it’s gone before Jackie can be sure. Shauna picks up her pen again, adjusts it in her fingers, and for all the world, it looks like she’s ignoring Jackie entirely.
The bell rings.
Shauna stands up in one fluid motion, gathering her things without a word. Jackie stays seated, her heart hammering in her chest, a knot of something sharp tangled up inside her.
Shauna leaves without a backward glance.
Jackie exhales slowly, the air feeling too thick in her lungs. She’s left with the echo of silence hanging between them, and she doesn’t know what’s worse—the fact that Shauna never reacts or that Jackie’s still trying to make her.
Jackie can’t decide which one scares her more.
But she knows she’ll try again. Because this—whatever this is, this push and pull—isn’t over.
Not yet.