Melissa knows by the fourth drill that senior varsity isn’t happening.
Coach Martinez had thrown out some half-hearted line yesterday about how freshmen and sophomores will get a fair shot. It had sounded a lot more believable before the actual varsity players showed up to their tryouts; now she’s bent over, gripping her knees while the sun beats mercilessly on her neck. Her attempt at deep breaths feel like she’s gargling on snot, and she’s mentally cursing herself for not hydrating properly.
Behind her, Gen chuckles and smacks her back twice. Melissa glances over her shoulder, tries to give her a wide smile with lips loose from exhaustion.
In all honesty, she doesn’t care much about which varsity she makes. She’s not one for ambition. If she had a motto, it would be: take what you can get. It’s not something she would proudly admit, especially to a bunch of athletes; so she does try. Hard even. She just keeps her expectations low.
"Gotta work on that endurance, Mel," Gen says.
They met less than twenty four hours ago and Mel already likes her. Judging by the nickname, the feeling is mutual. So, as far as Mel’s concerned, she’s meeting her real goals; she’s joining a team (this part was never in question), fitting in, making friends.
She’s about to respond when movement a little further down the field catches her eye: one of the players, Shauna—she thinks that’s it; the Yellowjackets did a rushed introduction, but she’s not great with names—kicking the ball really fucking hard to another tryout, Allie.
Allie shrieks, twisting her hips to dodge it just in time. Jackie—this one she remembers—steps in before things can escalate, which makes Mel realize: things could escalate. Her spine straightens on instinct, but Maybe-Shauna softens, so immediately that Mel wishes she had caught the expression on her face a second earlier. Was it angry? Did she mean to hit Allie?
Having met the girl, she can understand the urge.
But Maybe-Shauna apologizes and there’s something kind of sweet about how sincere she looks. It’s such a stark shift from the girl who had just sent a ball flying at the speed of sound towards a freshman, but she barely has time to process it before Coach Martinez blows the whistle, cutting through the moment. She doesn’t know who else caught the exchange. Coach calls for partner drills. Gen ends up with Jackie. She ends up with Maybe-Shauna.
Eveything moves quickly. She can’t help but throw her entire life philosophy out the window. Fortunately, passes are her main strenght, so she focuses on sharpening them, adding power to her kicks, moving faster, catching the ball back cleanly all while ignoring the burn creeping back up her calves. It’s because of the way Maybe-Shauna plays; controlled, self-assured, and like she expects Melissa to keep up. And Melissa, unwilling to disappoint, does.
By the end, Melissa is breathless, dripping sweat, but she feels good.
Maybe-Shauna smiles and nods at her. "You’ve got good technique."
It’s short, almost impersonal. But it carries the weight of approval. And recognition, maybe. Melissa will take it.
***
(The second time she’s left alone with Shauna, Mel doesn’t impress her as much.)
The Yellowjackets throw a party to welcome the newest players. Mel had gotten ready with a couple of the girls, namely Gen and Akilah, who she got along with the best. Gen had even braided her hair, which she appreciated more than she let on. She’s never really experienced that kind of girly ritual growing up.
Akilah changed her outfit about four times and Mel teased her for it, even as her own heart beat a little fast. Befriending Gen and Akilah came quite naturally, but the varsity team still unnerve her a bit. And she does want them to like her.
She can’t make herself someone’s favorite, but she can make someone like her.
Middle school had been a harder fit—she wasn’t pretty then, or thin, until she started soccer, and that combination was an unfortunate one to have in such a place. The first thing you learn, aside from growing a somewhat thicker skin, is how to have a likeable personality. Mel figured out how to make people laugh, and how to project confidence, although she likes to think that she’s finally made it after faking it.
She’s never shed that last layer of shyness, though. It always seems to creep back up when she’s faced with girls who intimidate her.
Like Definitely-Shauna, who’s ended up next to her by the Taylors’ enormous kitchen.
"So…" Mel starts, stretching the s a little too long. "You guys throw these kind of parties a lot?" she asks, since the welcome party has morphed into a bigger one, the guys’ baseball team flooding in like a plague.
"I guess," Shauna says, not looking up from her drink, the corners of her lips slightly downturned.
She nods, exaggeratedly like that would fill the silence, thinking to herself that oh my god why is my brain empty right now.
She does fine with shy people—she can lead the conversation, set the pace. And extroverts are easy too; their energy rubs off on her. But Shauna? Shauna is just completely disinterested. It leaves Mel with nothing to work with.
Silently, she prays for someone to join them before she’s forced to awkwardly slink away. Normally, Jackie would swoop in by now, pulling Shauna away like she always does. But Jackie’s busy; draped over her boyfriend like a coat.
"I’m gonna, uh – Gen, um," she articulates, gesturing vaguely in her friend’s direction.
Shauna barely glances up from her drink. "Uh huh. Sure."
***
Mel watches Shauna handle the knife and thinks it suits her. Looks good on her, even.
It’s a weird thought that she decides to keep to herself. Gen’s nose is already crinkled at the sight of the gutted carcass, blood slick and pooling; if she said it out loud, she’d definitely get a look.
Mel is more focused on Shauna’s steady hands than anything else. She can see both sides of Shauna so clearly: her kindness and thoughtfulness for the team, and the sharp edge lurking just beneath. It’s something she’s only seen once before, on the second day of soccer tryouts, and hadn’t thought about again until now.
"Thank god she stepped up," she whispers instead. "I could never do that."
"Yeah, no shit," Gen scoffs.
"Oh? And you could?"
"I’d rather shit a knife, Mel."
***
She cheers and claps along with the rest of the team, watching Taissa and Van kiss, their love laid bare for everyone to see. A tight squeeze grips her chest. A knot lodges in her throat, swelling and swelling.
She claps louder like she’s trying to smother the ache.
She’s happy for them. Surprised, but not really. Heat stings at the corners of her eyes.
She swallows against the knot; forcing it down, willing it to unravel. She manages to disappear the tears. When her hands finally drop, she tucks them behind her back, fingers curling against her palms, pressing until the tremor’s gone.
***
Mel doesn’t mean to watch Shauna as much as she does. It just happens, like instinct, and it’s been like this ever since Jackie died. She’s never heard someone scream like that before, never seen pain take shape so violently—like something alive trying to claw its way out of Shauna’s throat.
She doesn’t know what she’s looking for exactly. She’s concerned and also curious, and it keeps leading her here, sitting at Shauna’s feet or sleeping on the cot next to hers now that she can’t sleep upstairs.
She doesn’t think Shauna even notices. But Gen does.
Gen side-eyes her with an amused little smirk. "You’re like a puppy," she says, not necessarily mocking. It still embarrasses Mel; for a second, she thought of herself as closer to like, a guard dog.
And, well, Mel’s not exactly the leading expert when it comes to her own self.
***
Mel and Gen invent a game called It Could Be Worse, consisting of naming the various ways in which their situation—starving, burying friends, whatever fresh horror the day brings—could be worse.
It’s a good pastime. Nothing aids hunger more than boredom.
"OK, OK," Gen starts. "It could be worse: we crashed before exams season."
"Could be worse: we crashed as winners."
"It could be worse: Allie could be here."
"Yeah, thank you, Taissa," Mel laughs, then quickly reins herself in. She softens her tone, mindful not to wake Shauna, who’s resting behind her. "It could be worse: at least Misty is enjoying herself," she says mock-emphatically. It makes Gen laugh in turn.
"That psycho. It could be worse: Misty could be a twin. Wait, fuck, that’s Crystal. But it could be worse. Probably."
"Dude," Mel says suddenly, like she’s remembering something important. "I was so bored yesterday, I spent like, the entire morning watching them like it’s TV."
Gen raises her eyebrows. "I could never be that bored."
"They were out of earshot, so I was doing voiceovers—"
"—Uh huh—"
"The Misty and Crystal of my universe are very interesting people. And they called each other bosom friends. Misty was an orphan—"
"Melissa," Gen cuts her off. "That’s Anne of Green Gables."
She takes a moment to think. "Oh. That’s right."
"Yeah. But hey, I’m glad you read one book."
She glares, then throws another glance behind her, checking worriedly if Shauna’s still asleep. Shauna’s the most well-read person she knows. She’d hate to have her think Mel’s stupid. Which is a weird thing to still care about when almost everything else has stopped mattering entirely. Even the hat that she started wearing to hide the grease in her hair has become just another accessory.
"Fuck you," she mutters. "I read Animal Farm."
***
Van asks her and the others to give up part of their rations for Shauna.
She agrees, a little ashamed to not have thought to do so herself.
***
The spell shatters when Shauna’s child comes out stillborn. Whatever they had imagined for themselves, and that seemed to hinge entirely on his existence, dissolves in an instant. None of it was real. Not even the hope.
On some level, Melissa had been aware of the dissonance, of the way they let themselves bend reality just enough to make themselves believe in something beautiful. More so than the others, she thinks. She hadn’t simply surrendered to it—Lottie’s assurances, Van’s fairytales. She had worked at it. Actively dug a hole in the sand and buried her head chin-deep.
So when the illusion crumbles, it’s not as brutal. But it does hurt. And beneath it all, there’s the quiet, inevitable suspicion that the Wilderness never would have let them keep him.
***
Shauna inevitably breaks. No one can go through that much in so little time and not lose their shit.
For the first time since… Jackie, Mel feels one with the team, watching Shauna take Lottie down. At first, it’s fucking awful. Then she feels an odd sense of catharsis settle in her bones. Like balance restoring itself.
It’s satisfying, witnessing the crash inside themselves take physical form on the one who inspired it; the Wilderness’ favorite stripped down to nothing but meat.
Then the tension snaps for everyone but her—while the others rush to help Lottie, Mel’s eyes track Shauna exiting the cabin. Through the window, she watches her press her bloody knuckles into the snow; like putting out a fire. Only then does Mel register Akilah and Robin’s frantic voices.
By morning, the satisfaction curdles into something uglier. Guilt settles in her stomach like an anvil. She’s disgusted with Shauna.
When Shauna takes Gen’s blanket, because "Lottie’s cold," Mel snaps.
"Now you give a shit about Lottie?" she spits, but it lands right back at her feet.
***
She thinks back on how she tipped her hat to Burnout Natalie like she’s some nineteenth-century English gentleman and wonders when, exactly, her belief started to wane.
Probably after the fire. Yeah, that tracks. It happened fast. At the time, it felt like trying to ignore a giant neon sign flashing WRONG CHOICE, LOTTIE but then they were so busy keeping the fire alive, that there was very little room left for mysticism.
Mel will give credit where it’s due: Nat is a good leader. Not in the way Lottie was—to put it simply: less woowoo shit. So, arguably better. But she’s settled on the idea that they each serve their purpose, depending on what the time requires. She remembers a quote from her World History class (she can’t remember who said it, which pisses her off because it feels super obvious); religion is the opium of the people. In times of suffering, it distracts people from their real problems, soothes their pain. And Lottie gave them something like that.
(She ignores the loose thread of doubt that wants to unravel at the edges of her certainty, tugging at the question of what another winter might bring—and what she’ll tell herself then.)
Leaders don’t last forever, though, as best substantiated by Shauna who’s already taken to calling Nat my queen with enough bite to take a chunk out of her.
Shauna.
Shauna wants it, Mel thinks. She can see it in the way her eyes track Nat after she’s given her a task. Mel feels like she has to pick a side even though no one has ever brought up the idea of anything but the status quo. And if she had to pick, Mel would pick Shauna.
Maybe it’s an empathy thing; it’s not just that Shauna is deserving and capable, or that because she’s suffered the most, then she should be rewarded with something. Maybe it’s just that she can feel how unfair things must feel to her.
Nat and Shauna both feed the team. One brings in the meat. The other makes it edible. But it’s not as simple as that.
Nat gets to disappear into the woods and return triumphant. The team sees the results, not the process. Shauna doesn’t get that luxury; no distance, no discretion. No privilege of mystery. She works in the open, elbow-deep in something once living, breaking it down piece by piece for everyone to watch.
It’s the same thing with Javi. He died instead of Natalie, but Shauna’s the one who bled him.
She shivers. Shoves the thought down deep.
(Useless.)
Gen volunteered to learn how to hunt. No one wants to learn to butcher.
It doesn’t help that Shauna is pissed off all the time, now. Not just irritated, or short-tempered—she's angry. A deep, marrow-level kind of anger, that doesn’t burn out but rather settles in and calcifies.
No one stands up to her. Tai tries to at first, but even she gets tired of pushing against a wall that doesn’t budge. Lately, the consensus is to just let her have her way, as decreed by Nat, which Mel thinks isn’t very smart of her, but she’s certainly not going to tell her.
And so, Shauna pulls back. But she doesn’t make herself smaller. It’s impressive, the way she can keep silent and still command so much weight. The way she sits outside the huts with her knees apart, her posture lax like she owns the woods. And how her hair, unkempt, had grown out to make her look like something indigenous to this place; powerful, terrifying, beautiful.
Not everyone’s susceptible to her. Mari least of all. Gen does fear Shauna, but also finds her amusing because she finds meanness amusing. So does Mel, but not Shauna’s. Shauna’s meanness stems from a place of deep pain and Mel can’t find it amusing after being a witness to it.
Unfortunately, Shauna also happens to be very funny, so she has let the occasional chuckle slip. A little too loud, once, which granted her a sharp, immediate "Shut the fuck up, Hat," from Shauna that made Gen pinch her lips and cover her mouth and Mel want to die.
***
"It could be worse: another trusted adult could set fire to the huts," Gen says.
They still play the game, although not with the goal of distracting themselves from impending death. It’s become a habit, maybe. A habit is good; it’s proof that they’ve pulled something close to normal out of this place.
"It could be worse: there could be a trusted adult," Mel says, making Akilah laugh.
Akilah usually just listens to the game—she’s a little too nice to match their frequency, so Mel does try to keep it cleaner when she joins them.
"It could be worse: we could, uh… be in prison? Yeah, I don’t know. It’s my turn with Mortimer," Gen says distractedly, extending her arms. Akilah gives her the duck carefully. "You want him next?"
Mel shakes her head. She doesn’t want to get attached to a small animal she’ll very soon be losing (she still grieves for her cat, Lady Jolene Jolenejolenejolene). She wishes Akilah would do the same. The girl got attached to a dead rat, and still hasn’t learned her lesson. She’s named every animal they have.
"Very lame," Mel says. "Also, this is basically prison, since we can’t go anywhere else."
"Sometimes, I imagine we’re in a college dorm." Akilah says, petting Mortimer where he’s nestled in Gen’s arms.
Gen playfully bats her hand away. "Either way," she chuckles, and Mel senses a stupid joke coming. "It gets gay for the stay."
Mel laughs. Hopes it sounds real. Hopes it doesn’t read like panic. The way her stomach drop is familiar—like back home, when she thought someone might Figure Her Out, even though she wasn’t sure what there even was to figure out. Then Gen jerks her chin toward Britt and Robin, and Mel breathes.
"No way?" she asks.
Akilah laughs, looks at her like she can see the single digit of her IQ. "How have you not noticed?" she asks, to which she just shrugs dumbly.
Mel turns a little red, she doesn’t know why. Or, she knows, and she’d rather think about it later, because why ruin a fun moment with her friends?
***
It’s later.
There’s nothing to distract her, no fire to put out (or keep alive)—no excuse she can hide behind to avoid dealing with her feelings. Just the rythmic breathing of the others in their huts, the distant creak of branches shifting in the wind. And her thoughts; pressing in like they’ve been waiting for her to be still long enough to catch up.
On a logical level, she knows there’s nothing to be scared of. The Wilderness lets her get away with so much already. She doesn’t have to pretend to like talking about or to boys, doesn’t have to bother with table manners. She wears her cap low and backwards like her dad would. And on laundry days, when she has a choice, she hardly ever picks something that he wouldn’t have worn himself.
It’s so easy to just exist, here, when they’re not busy surviving.
Fuck.
This would be easier if it were anyone but Shauna.
She wishes it would, but once the thought finally crosses the line from her subconscious, she knows it’s not going anywhere. Shauna’s carved out a permanent space in her brain. She suspects it’s been there for a long time.
Mel wants her so much, it hurts.
***
After admitting her feelings to herself, Mel finds that she spends a lot of her days caught between two equally humiliating impulses: yearning for Shauna’s attention and shrinking away from it. It’s not like Shauna gives her – or anyone – many opportunities, so her options are obviously limited and thus should not be a source of internal conflict. Mel’s basically flunking a test with no score and no stakes.
But then Shauna asks for her help with the meat. Mel’s so nervous that she accepts silently, like a little kid; just steps forward and does as she’s told. And then she drops the meat, because she gets distracted by how effortless Shauna makes it look, like it’s not heavy as shit. The ease, the confidence she exudes, is stupidly attractive.
She’s lucky Mari says something about her clumsiness before Shauna does, because Shauna hates Mari so much it’s become a principle. Mel is spared, and Shauna directs her anger at Mari:
"I can’t believe we didn’t eat that bitch first."
She says it so matter-of-factly that Mel is stunned for a second. Shauna gives her a look like a challenge. Like she dares her to voice her disapproval.
What is there to disapprove of? Shauna is the only one here not shying away from the truth. She’s so fucking enchanting to witness that Mel can’t help a grin from growing. Yes, it’s awful—they’ve eaten people; their friend, and a fucking kid. Mel wants her to know that she doesn’t hide from it either.
"Mari’s so dumb, I heard she chipped a tooth on her vibrator," she says, hoping it’s not too lame.
The three seconds it takes Shauna to say something back feel like an eternity.
"Wait, do you like, actually have a personality?"
The words shouldn’t make Mel feel as smug as they do. She can’t help it: she preens under the attention, feels herself light up inside. She wants to say something clever back but nothing comes out except for a chuckle, because Shauna is still looking at her, like she’s finally seeing Mel as a person and Mel suddenly doesn’t know what to do with herself.
So she looks away first.
Akilah comes up to them to talk to Shauna, and Mel takes the opportunity for a breather, pretends to go fetch something. She listens to them from afar, and rolls her eyes at what is apparently Lottie’s idea of a crown for Shauna for tonight’s ceremony. Don’t they know Shauna would never want that?
She comes back right as Shauna knocks the crown from Akilah’s hands. Mel steps on it.
The crown looks like it was done with care. She’ll apologize to Akilah later.
***
Mel doesn’t know why she follows Shauna into the woods. Her feet seem to have a mind of their own. The buddy system, she tells herself. It’s crazy out there.
She sees Shauna dig up the tiny corpse of her child, wrapped in his black shroud, cradling it preciously. Mel follows her to a second location, where she buries him again like she’s reclaiming him. Like she’s saying: he’s not yours. This loss belongs to me.
She leaves Shauna to her grief.
On her way back to camp, she wonders why they even did the ceremony. Of course, some of the girls—with varying levels of discretion and intensity—still believe in Lottie’s woowoo shit. Mel doesn’t anymore, she thinks. To her, on good days, Lottie’s like this wise old tree or an out-of-touch grandfather you come to for life advice when all else fails. On bad days she’s the town crazy you cross the street to avoid.
***
Mel leaves the flowers she’s picked on the child’s tombstone. Like everything she does for or about Shauna, she’s not sure of the reason for it. Maybe she wants Shauna to have some comfort in knowing that someone recognizes her loss in a normal way, and not for whatever-the-hell else he might have meant for everyone that didn’t give birth to him.
Or maybe one hit of Shauna’s attention was all it took and now she’s hooked, forever chasing the next fix however she can.
She wasn’t expecting Shauna to visit his grave again today. The second she sees her approaching, panic sends her ducking out of sight. But something else keeps her there, curious for Shauna’s reaction.
She gets caught.
Adrenaline crashes over her like a tidal wave and every word of explanation that tumbles out of her mouth is wrong. She’s scrambling and she’s not even sure Shauna is listening.
Shauna moves closer, voice low, dangerous.
"No one has any right to my baby," she says. "He’s my baby."
Mel’s heart drops. That’s what the flowers were supposed to say. Panic locks her jaw, keeps her words tangled in knots.
"I agree," she thinks she says. She can barely hear herself over the rush of her own breathing. Shauna does that thing where she just stares silently until you crack yourself open for her, which is incredibly effective. "I’m sorry. For what happened. To you, um, you are… you’re so resilient and that’s so important out here."
Shauna softens, and that’s all the encouragement Mel needs. A burst of confidence rushes in, allowing her to tell Shauna what she’s been wanting to, that she’s not afraid of her, which is sort of a lie, because she’s so terrified of Shauna hating her, it’s actually ridiculous given that Shauna's only realized Mel has interiority yesterday.
Shauna must take it the wrong way, because suddenly there’s a knife at her throat. She’s shoved into the rough bark of a tree, Shauna pressing against her roughly, so, so close. Threatening to kill her.
Mel’s completely at her mercy. She can only think of one way to effectively manifest her intentions and maybe save her own life in the process—pulse pounding against the blade, she kisses her.
A beat. And Shauna kisses her back.
It’s fucking magical, and hot, because it feels like they’re still fighting—and Shauna’s winning, dragging Mel down to meet her, making her smaller. The knife stays at her throat like a challenge and she holds her ground—not rigid, not resisting. Inviting it. Challenging back. Proving herself. Proving she’s not afraid.
Then, a noise, somewhere behind them, startling Shauna away from Mel. Mel, still half in a trance, chases after her lips. Shauna shoves her back, hard, her shoulders slamming against the bark, the bite of it barely registering before Shauna turns and stalks off without a word.
Mel just stands there, stunned, breath coming fast. After a minute, out of nowhere, laughter spills out of her, shaky and exhilarated. She drags a hand through her hair, the sensation bringing her back down to earth; the adrenaline starts to leave her body, and a few stray tears slip free.
The smile stays on her face the entire walk back to camp.
***
That same night, Shauna doesn’t get out of her hut for dinner. Natalie insists on everyone eating, and was about to bring Shauna her share when Mel volunteers instead. She looks hesitant, but accepts.
Gen raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, it’s fine."
When she steps into Shauna’s hut, grinning, she’s met with a deep frown and a brutal "What the fuck do you want?"
Melissa falters, grin slipping, heart lurching. She catches herself, or tries to. It’s hard to swallow.
"Uh, your – uh – dinner—" Mel trails off. It sounds embarrassing even to her, because she ended her sentence without the proper intonation, so now it sounds like she just forgot the rest of it and Shauna is doing the thing again.
Eventually, she says: "You wanna watch me eat too?" Mel shakes her head no, fast. "OK, then put it down and leave."
She puts the bowl down and exits Shauna’s hut with her tongue in knots. The group laughs at the face she makes when she returns. She slumps back down by the fire.
"I’m so stupid," she says, rubbing a hand down her face.
"Yeahhh," Gen drawls. "Why, this time?"
Mel sighs, long and dramatic. "Nothing."
"Serves you right. Did you try to feed Shauna like she’s six?"
"What? No! Shut the fuck up, Gen," she snaps.
Gen's eyebrows furrow at her outburst. Because Gen doesn't back down, she adds: "I knew it. You chewed her food for her, didn’t you?"
"Literally, why is that the first place your mind goes?"
Gen gives her a look. "Dude, because I see you worrying about her like you’re best friends or something," she says, annoyed. "That’s very kind, Mel," she adds sarcastically. "But she’s not your problem. She’s a problem, for sure. Not yours to solve, though."
Mel blinks, thrown for a second. It had never occured to her that, while she was busy watching Shauna, someone else had been watching her. It reminds her of something Lottie had told Gen on her first run; that the hunter is never more exposed than when she’s focused on her prey.
She decides to sidestep the implications.
***
She jams her cap on at the last second, pulling it snug over the braids she all but begged Gen to do. The whole thing feels stupidly obvious; the hair, the fucking skirt that has never once been part of her usual rotation.
She won’t fuck up this time. She knows what to say. Came up with a whole script that she rehearses on the way.
Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.
Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.
Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.
Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.
She finally spots Shauna, sitting cross-legged on a fallen tree trunk, starts to open her mouth, the words on the tip of her tongue—
"Stalk much?" Shauna says, throwing Mel off guard.
Fuck, OK. That doesn’t matter. She can start the interaction again.
"Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you," she says. She’s pretty sure it comes out normal. Like a normal human being saying a normal thing spontaneously.
"Well, you found me," Shauna says flatly. Uninterested.
Her confidence starts to drain like someone’s unclogged the basin. She pushes forward anyway, sticking to the script, hoping it’ll save her.
"Can we like, um… talk?" She picks at her fingers.
Finally, Shauna looks at her. "About what?" she says, like she wasn’t involved in any way in their kiss.
Mel nods, exhales a dry, nervous laugh and turns to leave.
Shauna calls her back.
She fights the way her stomach flips. "Yeah, sure. Cool."
Briefly, she thinks it’s nice, just sitting here, alone, in nature. But this isn’t that kind of silence—it’s not peaceful, there’s expectations; for Melissa to start speaking, for example. The script is all gone, wiped clean like a chalkboard, leaving her scrambling for anything to use in its place.
When Shauna senses it, she looks at Mel like there’s something wrong with her.
"You’re not gonna turn out to be fucking boring, are you?"
Mel’s nervous mechanism when a girl intimidates her has always been to smile, it’s an automatic response to stress. But her smile becomes genuine, because Shauna sort of implies that she wants to see how Mel turns out, and then she thinks she knows what Gen means when she calls Mel a puppy because she can feel herself smiling like she’s begging for Shauna’s indulgence—as if to say: I might.
Shauna smiles back and her heart bursts.
***
After Mari came back (and fucking interrupted her moment with Shauna), after Shauna took charge of the Find Coach Ben Operation, the team loses her, and Van and Akilah.
When they finally find them, far down the cave – with Coach Ben – Mel moves without thinking, rushing to help Shauna to her feet. Shauna lets her. Then she straightens, shakes Mel off, and doesn’t look at her again.
***
Back at the camp, Shauna’s the one to tie up Coach Ben, and – unusually – doesn’t disappear into her hut right after. After a heated group exchange, Natalie decides to assign two people to guard him for the night so they can deal with what to do with him tomorrow; Tai first, then Travis will take over.
The camp empties out, the huts fill in, but Shauna stays in place, until she catches Mel’s gaze. Without breaking eye contact, she gets up and walks inside her hut, only then looking away. Mel’s heart does a triple backflip. She waits for some of the others to go to sleep, but Tai’s obviously not going anywhere.
"You coming?" Gen calls, already halfway to theirs.
"Yeah, uh, give me a sec," she says.
Once Gen’s inside, Mels walks right to Shauna’s hut, pointedly avoiding Tai’s stare.
She’s greeted by the sight of Shauna lying on her back, propped up by her elbows.
"Took you long enough."
"Sorry," she says. It comes out breathy, so she adds a light chuckle.
She lowers herself onto her knees beside Shauna, hands fidgeting before she even settles into position. The air inside the hut feels thinner than it did outside, and she tries not to breath too hard.
She’s too nervous to look at Shauna, but does, eventually. Shauna’s already looking at her. The moonlight washes her face in soft silver. She’s so beautiful.
Shauna tilts her head slightly. "So, what did you wanna talk about? Earlier?" she adds, when Mel looks lost.
Right.
Wait.
Obviously, Shauna knows that she wanted to talk about their kiss, right? Is this a move? Should she kiss her?
Mel, once again, takes too long to get the words out. Shauna shakes her head.
"You were so talkative in the woods. Did your tongue get stuck in Gen’s asshole?"
She lets out a nervous laugh, feeling her ego starting to bruise from all this push and pull. She tries to think of something provocative to say back.
"What did you see in the cave?" she asks, a little defiantly.
That seems to work. Just maybe not in her favor. "What?"
"It’s just, um," Come on, don’t lose your nerve now, Mel. "Akilah said the gas, uh, in the cave. Gave her visions."
Shauna looks at her for an uncomfortably long time. "I didn’t see anything."
"Are you sure? Even Coach—"
"On second thought, you don’t have to talk."
Melissa doesn’t know if she put her foot in her mouth or if that was a move and now she should kiss her.
Shauna turns to lay on her side. Mel looks around, like someone’s going to tell her whether she should stay or leave. Almost as if she sensed that, Shauna gives her the answer:
"You can stay."
So she does.
She lies beside her, on her back.
"Hold me," Shauna says after a while, and Mel obeys.
She shuffles carefully closer to Shauna, mirroring her position, and drapes her arm over her waist, and Shauna shifts even closer to her. Mel almost stops breathing. The distance between them is nothing now—Shauna’s warmth mixing with her own, the only thing keeping them separate a few layers of fabric. She stills, afraid Shauna might notice the uneven rythm of her breathing, the way her chest rises and falls against her back.
Shauna exhales, slow, settling easily into Mel. She relaxes in turn.
They might really be done with talking for tonight, Mel thinks. Shauna takes Mel’s hand in her own, makes her graze her abdomen, going lower and lower until they reach her waistband. Shauna guides her hand beneath the fabric, pressing them against the soft, damp heat between her thighs. Mel sucks in a sharp breath. Then Shauna pulls her hand away, leaves Mel’s in its place. Gives her autonomy.
Something takes over Mel. Protectiveness, maybe. She stops shaking. Dips her fingers lower, drags them through the part that’s already slick. It’s Shauna’s turn to gasp, to Mel’s delight.
Mel repositions her fingers, rubs on her clit. It’s almost like she’s touching herself. She traces circles, falling into a steady rythm, into the way Shauna trembles against her.
"Say you love me," Shauna breathes. Mel falters in her pattern. "Even if you don’t mean it. I’m close, say it," she demands.
"I love you," Mel pants into Shauna’s ear. "I love you."
Shauna shudders through her orgasm, and when it’s over, Mel slips her hand away, lets her arm go slack for a moment—then tightens her hold again, drawing Shauna back to her.
***
It's Shauna who finds her the next morning. She moves quieter than usual, the sharpness in her expression dulled. Mel fights the instinct to smile too wide, tries to keep it measured, appropriate to their situation.
"Hey."
"Hey," Shauna replies, gives her a small smile of her own. "Why’d you leave last night?"
She stutters a little at what to say—she thought she did the right thing by slipping out once Shauna fell asleep (she even waited until Tai went to wake Travis to stay completely unseen) although she had to put up with Gen’s questioning.
"I thought you wanted it this way," she admits.
Shauna watches her for a beat, then nods. "Next time, you can stay."