Fade into you
Shauna lies awake, staring at the ceiling.
The house is quiet—her parents asleep, the dog curled somewhere near the radiator, the hum of the fridge too far away to break the silence.
She hasn’t turned the lamp off. The room glows dim and yellow. Her fingers trail the edge of her sheets, restless, still cold from the walk home hours ago.
She can’t stop thinking about it. About her.
Jackie’s coat brushing hers. Jackie’s laugh like it wanted to be something else. Jackie’s voice saying I like your coat, like that was all she could manage.
Shauna hadn’t said anything BIG back. She wanted to. She almost did.
But the words got stuck in her throat. Like everything else.
⸻
She rolls onto her side. The flannel Jackie gave her—bought off the LL Bean catalogue that Jackie specifically got just to buy Shauna clothes—hangs from the back of her desk chair. Shauna stares at it.
She doesn’t wear it around Jackie. Not anymore.
But she can’t make herself stop wearing it, either.
⸻
She thinks about the way Jackie looked at her when the car passed. That second where she thought Jackie was going to step closer. That tiny shift in space that felt like a goddamn earthquake.
Shauna had felt it in her bones. Like heat. Like warning.
She presses her face into the pillow.
Breathes once. Then again.
Wishes she knew what to do with all this wanting.
⸻
Outside, snow taps against the window.
Inside, Shauna doesn’t move.
She just lies there.
Wearing Jackie’s flannel.
Heart loud in her chest.
Thinking about things she’ll never say out loud.