You oughta know
Jackie’s room smelled like strawberry gum and old perfume. That musky Victoria’s Secret body spray she always overused—Love Spell or Pure Seduction or something else that made Shauna’s head spin. She wasn’t even sure it was the scent. It might’ve just been Jackie.
They were sitting on the floor, backs against the bed, legs splayed out, knees touching in that casual, careless way that meant everything and nothing at all. Jackie was flipping through an old yearbook, snorting at someone’s braces, circling people with a pen like it was a hit list.
Shauna watched her. Watched the way her hair fell across her cheek, the way her lips moved when she chewed her gum. The way she never really thought about what she was doing to people. Or maybe she did, and that was worse.
“You know,” Jackie said, not looking up, “we were kind of hot last year. Like, objectively.”
Shauna gave a small, half-smile. “You were hot. I looked like I was still waiting to hit puberty.”
Jackie turned her head, grinned like she’d caught her in a lie. “Please. You’ve had boobs since seventh grade.”
That made Shauna blush. Not visibly, hopefully, but she could feel the heat bloom just under her skin. Jackie always said stuff like that—just enough to mess with her. Just enough to keep her twisted up in knots.
“You remember that pool party at Ali’s?” Jackie’s voice went a little quiet. “When you wore that blue one-piece? You were so embarrassed, but, like… it looked good.”
Shauna’s heart thudded. She forced a shrug. “It was just a swimsuit.”
“It was a whole thing,” Jackie said, and now she was really looking at her. That Jackie look—head tilted, eyes narrowed, like she was figuring you out and daring you to stop her.
There it was again. That hum. That pull. Like something under Shauna’s skin had started buzzing and wouldn’t stop. Jackie got this close sometimes. Always without warning. Always just enough to undo her.
“I used to think,” Jackie started, then paused, chewing on the end of her pen. “I don’t know. You and I… we were kind of inseparable, right?”
Were.
Shauna’s throat tightened. “Yeah. Still are.”
Jackie smiled, but it wasn’t cocky this time. It was small. Strange. Honest, almost. “Sometimes I think I like you more than I’m supposed to.”
Shauna stared at her. Couldn’t look away. Jackie said stuff like that sometimes—half a joke, half a threat, all razor-blade sugar.
She wanted to say same. She wanted to say I’ve thought about kissing you since sophomore year. She wanted to say I love you, but she couldn’t tell if Jackie was being real or just bored.
So instead she said, “Yeah?”
Jackie’s smile twitched. “Yeah.”
They sat there, just breathing. The air felt too thick. Too loud. Jackie turned, just slightly, and now her shoulder was pressed into Shauna’s. Her hand was resting on the floor between them, palm up.
Was that on purpose?
Shauna didn’t move. But she felt her fingers twitch toward Jackie’s. Just barely. Just enough.
Jackie noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She turned her face, slow, her cheek brushing Shauna’s shoulder. Their faces were inches apart now. Her gum popped between her teeth. Shauna could smell her shampoo. Could see the little smudge of mascara under her eye.
“I bet you’ve never kissed a girl,” Jackie whispered, and it wasn’t a question.
Shauna’s pulse spiked. “So what if I haven’t?”
Jackie’s lips curved. “Nothing. Just means I’d be your first.”
That was it. That was the moment. Everything in Shauna screamed yes. Her whole body leaned toward it. Her mouth parted. Her hand inched closer.
Jackie blinked.
And pulled away.
Not far—just enough to break the spell. Just enough to make Shauna feel like she’d imagined the whole thing.
“Anyway,” Jackie said too loudly, grabbing the yearbook again, voice casual like nothing had happened. “Ali’s still a bitch.”
Shauna sat frozen. Her blood thundered in her ears.
What just happened?
She felt the ghost of what could’ve been—what almost was—haunt the space between them.
And Jackie? Jackie was already laughing at some dumb picture on page 47.