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If Shauna’s mom asks, the reason that Shauna and Jackie moved into an apartment in New Brunswick together for their senior year of college instead of continuing their long-running tradition of sharing a dorm room is because it’s ‘just more financially practical.’ In fact, that’s the explanation Shauna gives everyone, because there’s no way she can admit with a straight face that Jackie just really wanted a cat, and you can’t have pets in the dorms, and that’s why they moved into a dingy little apartment with no parking to speak of that’s a good fifteen minutes away from campus.
Honestly, Shauna’s just embarrassed that she caved so damn easily. But when Jackie’s blinking up at her with her massive, twinkling puppy dog eyes, saying Shauna, I want a kitten, what the fuck is Shauna supposed to do? Sure, of course, no problem, they can go apartment hunting, they can sign the lease on this landlord special of a 450-square-footer, they can go to the animal shelter and pick out the most sickly, tiny little kitten in the entire place and take it home to their near-bare apartment first thing upon moving in. (The kitten was healthy again and wreaking havoc on their apartment not three days after they adopted it.)
Shauna’s inability to tell Jackie no would be deeply embarrassing, if it weren’t essentially a nonissue when contrasted with Shauna’s much bigger problem, which is that she’s hopelessly and horribly in love with Jackie. Clearly, she’s not all that good at hiding it, either, because, come on: even Shauna can look at her own ridiculous devotion and register that she’s being completely fucking obvious.
If Jackie’s caught on at all, though, she’s a hell of a fucking actress, because she’s given no indication. And given Jackie’s track record of being less than adept at acting casual when she knows something that she shouldn’t, Shauna can only assume that she’s kept that secret just as well as she’s concealed the fact that she’s, like, super allergic to cats.
For the past three months, Shauna’s been barely surviving on Zyrtec. She’s thinking of investing in those allergy shots, or something, because there’s no way in hell she’s telling Jackie that she’s allergic to the demonic and adorable orange kitten that Jackie named Clementine. Fucking Clementine! What the fuck! That’s so cute! And it doesn’t help that Clementine’s favorite spot to nap in their apartment is on top of Shauna’s pillow on the bed she shares with Jackie. Which, okay, like – let Shauna explain.
Obviously, the initial idea wasn’t for them to share a bed. The apartment is comically cramped, and it’s a one-bedroom, which means that they’d each be cramming a twin bed into the shared bedroom – it’s basically like a dorm with a kitchen and a kitten, or so Shauna said when they first moved in. Except, for whatever reason, shipping was delayed for Jackie’s mattress, and they didn’t actually have a couch until a good two weeks after moving in, so the natural next step was the two of them squeezing together to share Shauna’s bed for the time being. It’s not like they don’t have experience with that, or anything – for the first twelve years of their friendship, half of every sleepover would end with Jackie wrapping herself around Shauna as they pressed together almost impossibly closely in Shauna’s tiny bed. It wasn’t uncomfortable then, and it’s not uncomfortable now, though of course there’s something especially agonizing to Shauna about sharing a bed with this girl that she’s in love with every night, but just as friends.
When Jackie’s bed finally did come, Jackie made it up all nice, and Shauna pretended not to be disappointed, and then they went out drinking to celebrate its arrival, because when you’re twenty-one, you go out drinking to celebrate basically everything. When they returned to their new apartment that night, drunk and making a mess of clumsily maneuvering their way through the shoebox sized apartment, Jackie didn’t even flip the light switch on as she kicked off her shoes and collapsed into Shauna’s bed, instead of her own, and then held out her arms for Shauna to join her.
And so, Shauna did, and she wrote it off as Jackie being drunk, and they woke up hungover in the same bed the following morning, but just as friends. Except that when Shauna got into bed that night and started reading, Jackie, decidedly entirely sober, strode over to her about twenty minutes later, hair still damp from showering and smelling of lavender shampoo, and she told Shauna to scoot over, like it was just a given that Jackie would still be spending each night in Shauna’s bed, though it wasn’t actually necessary anymore.
What was Shauna supposed to do? Question it? Hell no. Jackie can stay in Shauna’s bed for as long as she wants, because it works just fine for Shauna. She doesn’t know why Jackie’s resistant to sleeping in her own bed – maybe it’s because she’s always freezing, or maybe it’s just not as comfortable, or maybe she’s just used to Shauna – but Shauna doesn’t care. It’s nice. Comfortable, even, despite how pressed for space it might be between the two of them and their cat curling up in a twin-sized bed. And if it kills Shauna a little, too, to wake up every morning with Jackie’s head against her chest – if it stings a little to live in that liminal space of almost, not quite – then she’ll cope. And if her face goes red every time Jackie places a hand on Shauna’s lower back as she slides past her in their comically narrow kitchen, then Shauna will ignore it.
She’s got a good thing going here, okay? For all that it aches to hover in the bizarre domesticity that’s just a little too close to romance for Shauna not to fantasize, she still thrives in the rhythm they’ve created, feels at home in it. The apartment’s paint is peeling, and the carpet’s coming up in some places and mysteriously stained in others, but Shauna loves it just because it’s hers and Jackie’s; it’s the place they come home to together, decorated in a bizarre tapestry of Jackie and Shauna’s conflicting tastes. And Shauna hasn’t been able to breathe through her nose since they got Clementine, and she hasn’t gone a full day without tiny claws digging into her flesh in a solid week, but Shauna can’t imagine life without her any more than she can imagine a life without Jackie.
That’s a big part of why Shauna’s done her best to make sure Jackie doesn’t know exactly how Shauna feels about her – because things are so good right now, and why ruin that with an ill-fated love confession if she doesn’t have to? Shauna can’t imagine life without Jackie, and for as long as she can keep her mouth shut, she won’t need to. And maybe it’s hard, yeah, to live like this – constantly wanting more than the already-too-much that she’s being given – but how could Shauna ever give it up just to get turned down? Jackie’s her best friend, but she doesn’t love Shauna like that, and Shauna can live with that. Sure, why not? Shauna’s happy with the way things are. She can live like this for the rest of her life.
Things are good. Shauna’s in deep existential pain and teetering on the edge of complete heartbreak pretty much every waking minute of her life, but it’s fine. Shauna likes that Jackie’s her roommate, and, like, yeah, Shauna’s in love with her, but what rule says that you can’t platonically share a bedroom (and a twin bed) with someone that you have feelings for? Shauna can see absolutely no downsides to rooming with somebody she’s desperately in love with. Like, really, what could go wrong?
Senior year has been absolutely fantastic for Jackie so far. She’s finally legally old enough to drink, her grades are glowing (Shauna’s an excellent tutor), she’ll never have to eat dining hall food again, she’s sharing an apartment with her best friend in the world, and she’s got a kitten.
Admittedly, the apartment is less than luxurious, but Jackie finds that she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s never really had a place of her own before, but this apartment? It’s hers and Shauna’s, their first place together, decorated how they like it – nothing like the cavernous, haunted colonial of Jackie’s childhood. No, this is their home, so how could Jackie hate it? As far as she’s concerned, it’s the best place in the world; it’s also the reason they’re able to have their cat, which makes it totally worth it either way. Jackie loves that cat, and she especially loves the way that Shauna’s laugh fills up the room when she’s playing with her.
Things are good. Perfect, even, aside from the one tiny issue, that being Jackie’s undying love for Shauna. Which is nothing new, except that it’s notably romantic now, something it took Shauna going on a date with another girl in their Junior year for Jackie to realize. There was never a second date, which is a good thing, because if there was, Jackie probably would have gone genuinely insane.
Actually, Jackie sort of always feels like she’s going a little insane, if only because being in love with Shauna is just about the most inconvenient thing Jackie can imagine. It isn’t like she could imagine being in love with anybody else – who could ever live up to Shauna? It all makes perfect sense in Jackie’s head, this love that she feels, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. All she ever wants is more, but they already share a bed, which would admittedly be a lot if it were anybody but them. Jackie’s just grateful Shauna never questioned her on why she refused to use her own bed, which is perfectly functional, for all intents and purposes.
But why would Jackie sleep in her own bed, when Shauna lets Jackie sleep in hers? Jackie just likes to be close to her. She sleeps better with Shauna’s shoulder operating as her pillow. And Jackie likes things the way that they are, no matter how relentlessly they may be teased about their unconventionally domestic living situation, just as they’re being teased now.
They’re at the bar with all of their friends: the floor is sticky, every step that Jackie takes leaving her plastered to the ground until she picks up her feet again, the rubber soles of her shoes peeling off of the floor with a ripping noise Jackie can’t quite hear over the sound of the music. They’ve been here for at least two hours, and everything is dim, and Jackie can tell that Shauna’s already pretty far gone by the way she’s got a hand wrapped around Jackie’s bicep, her doe eyes all wide as she bobs her head along in time to the conversation without seeming to really follow it all that much. Her cheeks are bright red, and Jackie keeps stealing sips of Shauna’s beer so that she’s got less to drink, because Shauna mentioned earlier that she’s got this big test in her Monday 8 am, and there’s no way she’s going to study enough as she’ll want to if she’s nursing a hangover for the entirety of Sunday.
The time that Jackie makes the executive decision that it’s probably time to head out is about the same time that Shauna’s long-gone childhood lisp starts reemerging. Though Shauna’s been able to properly pronounce her ‘s’ sounds since she was eight years old, the drunker she gets and the more that she starts to slur, the harder the task starts to become for her, and it’s usually what Jackie takes as her cue to cut Shauna off. So, when Shauna’s trying to complain about her upcoming test, and she calls the course philothophy, Jackie swallows a giggle and says, “alright, Shauna, c’mon, I think it’s time we get you home.”
Immediately, Jackie’s met with a chorus of boos. “It’s not even fucking eleven, you’re joking,” Natalie insists, which, okay, yeah, it is early, but so what? They came, they drank, they had fun! Now, Jackie wants to take Shauna home and coax her into drinking a solid sixteen ounces of water while they watch The X-Files and Clementine sprawls out across their laps. Is that such a crime?
“Aw, what’d you expect?” Van teases, sipping on her beer. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell before we get Jackie and Shauna to stay out ‘till midnight.”
“Hey!” It’s true – at least lately, it’s true – but still, Jackie resents that.
“Hey, remember last year? You guys used to be at least a little fucking fun,” Natalie says, and Jackie wonders if everyone shamelessly giving them shit is supposed to make her not want to leave.
“Yeah, but that was before they became an old married couple,” Taissa says, her tone matter of fact. Married? Fuck. What? Fuck. Jackie scoffs, and a nervous little giggle tumbles out of her mouth unbidden. Heat rises through her, and she’s so sure that she’s bright red – has she always been so terminally incapable of playing it cool?
“What? I – no, we’re not – ” Jackie starts an anxious ramble without meaning to, until Shauna – God bless her – cuts Jackie off before she can dig herself into some kind of hole.
Shauna’s admittedly a little bit all over Jackie, as she tends to be when she’s drunk – her arms wrapped around one of Jackie’s, her chin resting on Jackie’s shoulder. It would be pointless to pretend that Jackie’s anything less than acutely aware of every spot on her body where Shauna’s touching her. It would be pointless to pretend that Jackie’s stomach doesn’t do a flip every time Shauna readjusts her position ever so slightly, her fingertips brushing previously untouched sections of Jackie’s arm. It makes Jackie so strangely giddy and warm, lightheaded. It makes it hard to focus on anything all night, and now, as Shauna tightens her hold on Jackie’s arm, Jackie’s flush deepens to an uncomfortable heat.
“Jackie,” Shauna says, and her breath brushes against Jackie’s cheek, “we can probably stay a little longer.” She’s looking into Jackie with her big, sweet eyes, a little smile pulling at her lips.
“Shauna…” is as close to a response as Jackie can manage to get. She should say, we should really go, but it’s hard to string a sentence together when Shauna’s looking at her like that, trailing her fingers up and down Jackie’s exposed bicep. Jackie shivers.
“Don’t be lame,” Natalie insists – concise. Great.
“I – you – test. Shauna, your test,” Jackie manages, and Shauna blinks lazily at her, like she’s not processing the statement. “You have to study?” Right? Doesn’t she? Yes. Jackie’s being responsible. She kind of hates being the responsible one. She’s hardly ever any good at it.
“Okay,” Shauna says after a long beat. “Yeah. True. But… you haven’t even, like, had any fun yet,” Shauna says, which isn’t true. Jackie’s having plenty of fun – it’s fun just to be here, fun just to have Shauna wrapped around her. But Jackie supposes what Shauna means is that Jackie hasn’t had all that much to drink yet, sparing alternating between her own beer and stealing sips from Shauna’s. She’s tipsy but not drunk, probably the closest one to sober there, and it had all been mostly for the sake of making sure Shauna didn’t overdo it. Jackie’s not much of a babysitter if she’s stumbling down drunk, too.
“C’mon, Taylor. Do a couple shots with me, then you two can go home and study or fuck or knit or feed your cat, or whatever the fuck goes on in that shithole apartment of yours,” Natalie says, and Jackie kind of just wants to sink into the ground so that the earth swallows her whole right here and now.
“Hey,” Jackie says again, her voice coming out feeble, and she’s not sure which part of the sentence offends her.
“Shots!” Shauna says as she slaps down an open palm against their table, suddenly gleeful in a way that’s a little out of character for her. “C’mon, Jax, do the shots. I wanna see that,” she insists, tugging lightly at a loose strand of Jackie’s hair.
“Ooh, peer pressure,” Van says, waggling her fingers in Jackie’s direction mischievously.
Which, like, yeah. Because really, Jackie just wants to bail now, grab a cab, and head home. Because, like, if she’s hardly keeping it together now, she’s not particularly eager to see what two shots will do to her or the fluttering feeling in her stomach that makes itself known every time Shauna giggles against her.
But, then again: here’s Shauna, carefree and looking over at Jackie with her big doe eyes, a dopey little grin settled on her face as she insists over and over that she wants to see Jackie do a shot (or two, or three) even as she lisps her way through the word shot.
“It’ll be fun,” Shauna says, smiling with all of her teeth, and what’s Jackie supposed to say to that?
Jackie sighs. Tries to bite back a smile, but can’t quite manage it. “Fine,” she says finally, and when Shauna cheers and laughs, it is already so totally worth it.
See? Jackie’s no good at being the responsible one. Or maybe she’s just no good at telling Shauna no.
It’s a half a shot for Shauna and a full three for Jackie before they’re dismissed out into the dark night, and it’s on the cab ride home that Shauna starts getting brave. She’s mesmerized by the sight of Jackie in the moonlight, glowing from the inside out as they slope against each other in the back seat, Jackie’s hand resting on Shauna’s thigh right where her dress ends, Shauna twisting a finger through a stray strand of Jackie’s hair. The whole cab smells like Jackie’s perfume, a pervasive scent that’s faintly floral and pressing in on Shauna until it’s like the whole world is just Jackie.
They’re pressed together now, and Shauna’s so sure she can hear Jackie’s heart beating, and they’re breathing in sync with one another. They sway together with each turn of the car, moving as one, Jackie giving Shauna a lazy little grin that makes her eyes scrunch up a little at the corners.
How could Shauna not be hypnotized? How could she not think that this is so right, her here with Jackie, the two of them touching? “I love you,” Shauna says, and she says it slowly though she wants to blurt it out, taking great care to load as much meaning as she can into each expertly enunciated word – she won’t slur her way through this; it matters that Jackie knows.
“I love you too,” Jackie says, slurring a little but saying it easily, like it’s instinct, like it’s second nature. Shauna supposes it probably is – how many times have they said the same few words since they were five years old? More than Shauna can even conceptualize. It’s a given, it’s an indelible truth, but when Shauna hears Jackie mumble out the words, Shauna thinks, no, not like that.
Because Shauna loves her. She loves her, like, so much, and now – drunk, a little dizzy, squinting in the blinding white of the streetlights they’re passing by – nothing seems so scary, because what could matter more than that? Shauna loves her. And when they’re here together – touching like it’s all they’re ever meant to do in this world – how can Shauna not think that means something? How can she not think they’re meant to be?
It’s all so clear to her now, brave and in the back of the cab with Jackie pressed against her. Everything a lucid truth: Shauna cannot live like this the rest of her life, drowning in an abstract in-between. Shauna cannot imagine her life without Jackie, but more than that, she can’t imagine her life without having Jackie in the way that’s she’s only now become so certain is the way that they’re meant to be together.
It’s all so obvious now that Shauna feels stupid for ever having worried about it in the first place. All of this time that she’s wasted keeping quiet, and what had she been waiting for?
That thought alone is almost enough to propel Shauna straight into – what? Lunging forward and capturing Jackie in a sloppy kiss in the back of the cab? God, it’s tempting, with Jackie’s lips pressed into a lazy little smile and still coated in a layer of lip gloss, glinting in the light like they’re fucking calling to Shauna, or something. But, okay, no: Shauna’s not going to do that.
Even drunk, she’s got at least a little bit of class, and this – it’s important. It’s big, and she’s so sure in the moment that her boldness and her sudden need to tell Jackie the truth about her feelings is spurred on not by the alcohol she’s consumed, but by a sudden revelation that she’s had here, with her thighs sticking to the leather seats of a cab that somebody’s probably had sex in before. It’s, like… spiritual. Or poetic. Or something. It’s a sense of clarity that Shauna’s come to, and she’s going to carry that with her, even as her blood alcohol content levels out, and even as the night spins by and gives way to a sterile blue autumn sky tomorrow morning.
So, Shauna’s going to do this, but she’s going to do it right. Like… with flowers. Or a love letter. Or a dinner. Or something. Something right, something good, the kind of memorable and romantic thing that Jackie would love. The kind of thing she can recount with a lovestruck grin on her face.
This is something Shauna’s been dreaming about for so long, so, yeah, she wants to make it count. She wants to make it right, and one more day won’t kill her. They’ll go home now, and drink water, and go to bed, and probably sleep off the hangovers that are sure to plague them, and then Shauna will draw up some kind of plan that she can put into place, and it’s going to be perfect.
That’s what Shauna keeps thinking, even as the cab takes them all the way home and Jackie slumps against her shoulder, even as they make their way up the walk and fumble with Shauna’s set of keys and stumble their way into the darkened apartment, their arms linked together as they narrowly avoid tripping over their own feet.
It’s gonna be perfect. It’s gonna be right.
“Water,” Shauna mumbles as she shuts the door behind them, her voice a little thick as she tries to get ahold of herself in the very noble effort to keep it together for the remainder of the night, though the weightless feeling in her chest makes her a little dizzy and a little bit fearful that if she strings any number of words together, she’ll wind up coming clean and professing her love for Jackie right here, in the doorway of their apartment.
Jackie bobs her head up and down absently, a million miles away though she’s looking right at Shauna, her hazel eyes all glassy and dilated, her gaze absolutely set. “Right,” she slurs, and she inhales sharply through her nose, sways just a little where she stands.
A lot of water, Shauna thinks hazily, and she takes Jackie’s hand to lead her into the narrow little hallway of theirs that can hardly be considered a kitchen, so tight that you can’t pass by someone without brushing against them. Still, they squeeze together, body heat filling up the space as Shauna moves unsteadily towards the cabinet for a pair of glasses, dropping Jackie’s hand.
Jackie’s trailing so closely behind Shauna that she can almost feel energy buzzing in the space that exists between them, and it’s only as big of a torture as it’s always been, this undefined more-than-nothing space of theirs, where it’s just so horribly easy to imagine the way that everything could be.
It makes Shauna’s considerate patience that much harder to maintain, but still, as Shauna turns back around with two cups in hand and every intention of getting them both water and then going straight to bed, she knows for a fact that if she’s going to do this (and she is), then she’s going to do it right.
And then she turns back around to face Jackie, and without any warning whatsoever, Jackie’s kissing her.
Pinned against the counter with two cups still in hand, Shauna’s being kissed by Jackie Taylor in their dimly lit kitchen, lip gloss rubbing off against her mouth as Jackie presses their bodies together and bites down on Shauna’s lip just a little, and Shauna –
Well, Shauna short circuits a little. And she’s honestly standing there like a bit of an idiot, both hands still extended, her fingers circling around the surface of the glasses they bought on sale at Target when they first moved in, her drunken mind barely registering anything that’s happening, because – well, what? What? What?
And it isn’t like Shauna hasn’t absolutely dreamed of this, and of course it’s not like she hadn’t truly felt that this was how things were destined to work out, but, well. It still feels like a dream to her, or like she just isn’t processing it, hopelessly stalling out and a few steps behind, because how could she have imagined that it would work out like this?
Despite how certain Shauna was that they were meant to be, it honestly hadn’t ever occurred to her that Jackie felt the same way. Shauna had presumed that she’d have to pitch the idea first, and only then, once she’d boldly and romantically proclaimed her love, would Jackie maybe realize that she felt the same way, or she could, or that maybe everything Shauna had to say about them – about the way that they’re so right together – made sense.
It had never occurred to her that Jackie might make the first move.
And of course, only then does Shauna think: maybe she’s not. Because Jackie’s drunk, and maybe that’s all this is, just Jackie, drunk and impulsive and wanting to do something.
And the thought just craters Shauna, flattens her, because if Jackie doesn’t feel the same – if this doesn’t mean anything to her – then how can Shauna keep living like this, and act like that’s fine? How can she ever move on, now that she knows what it’s like to have Jackie?
Now that they’ve kissed, Shauna doesn’t think she could stand a world in which they couldn’t do it again, and again, and again, for the rest of their lives. Fuck.
She pulls away though she doesn’t want to, whipping her head back with enough force that it makes a dull thud against the cabinet, pressing her back further into the countertop, though there’s just not enough space to separate them completely, and even when Shauna tears her mouth away, she can still feel Jackie’s body pressed up against hers. “Jackie,” Shauna says, and her voice comes out trembling a little.
Jackie blinks at Shauna heavily, all dazed like she’s coming out of a dream, like she doesn’t quite know where she is. She sucks in a heavy breath and her eyes go immediately wide, taking up her entire face as her body tenses up and she backs away in a few graceless steps until her back hits the opposite counter. She looks almost frightened, or maybe just embarrassed, her face flushing red enough that it spreads all the way down to her chest.
Shauna – well, Shauna doesn’t know what she expects. For Jackie to furiously apologize? For her to say she’s just drunk, and she didn’t mean it? For her to clumsily try to pretend that it never happened?
“I’m in love with you!” Jackie blurts.
Okay, well. Not that. Jackie says it all at once, slurs it almost beyond recognition, spitting out the words like she can’t stand to keep them inside for any longer.
It is pretty much the best thing Shauna could hear – the most relieving thing, the most beautiful thing, and she had been so dumb to have ever been worried, hadn’t she? Of course, they’re perfect. Of course, it would work out like this, because they’re so completely and obviously meant to be together. And it feels like a dream, but Shauna’s smiling so hard it hurts already, so she figures she must still be conscious. “…Okay, yeah. I – me too. I’m – yeah, I’m in love with you, too,” Shauna manages, having trouble speaking through her smile, having trouble stringing her thoughts together. Everything in her mind is jumbled, angels singing and everything floating, this is good, this is good, but nothing else more coherent than that.
That’s all it takes for Jackie to light up completely, a little stunned and giddy right off the bat and giggling a bit at the words, so beautiful with a glowing grin gracing her features, bouncing on her toes before she closes the gap between them and they’re kissing again – oh, it’s so right, it’s so perfect, everything that Shauna’s been imagining for so fucking long now, and she can’t believe it, really, but they’re here, aren’t they? And she’d been so sure that it was right, and it is, Jackie’s nose brushing against hers, heat radiating off of her blushing cheeks, Shauna’s heartbeat impossibly loud in her ears.
But, still – for as dazed as Shauna is with absolute glee, and for as hard of a time as she’s having stringing thoughts together, she still thinks, wait. Because – well, Shauna had a plan. She’d had a plan, and now they’re… like, making out against the counter in the middle of the night, liquor still on their lips. So, Shauna pulls away just slightly (and it kills her to do it), just enough to catch her breath, their foreheads still pressed together. “I… I – we – I was… gonna take you to dinner?” Shauna stammers. It was going to be romantic. Jackie loves that shit.
Jackie gives a disgruntled little groan at their kissing being interrupted, but when she processes Shauna’s words, her eyes go soft. “That’s so sweet,” she gushes, and Shauna nods wordlessly, her chest still hitching rapidly as she tries to get ahold of herself. Jackie thinks on it for another second, her grin broadening. “Take me tomorrow,” she decides, then closes the gap between the two of them again, resting her hands on Shauna’s hips.
And the next night, Shauna does. She forgets all about studying for her philosophy test, though.