Archive of Our Own

1. For Good Luck

Shauna doesn’t want to go to Florida.

She knows that makes her sound ungrateful—her mom keeps telling her how lucky she is, how most kids would be excited. But all Shauna can think about is how loud her parents were yelling the night before, her dad slamming the door and her mom crying in the kitchen afterward. And now they want to trap her in a plane and fly her across the country to act like everything is normal. Like their family is something happy and whole.

She stares down at her sneakers, watching them scuff the woodchips beneath the swing. Jackie’s next to her, gently rocking back and forth, the metal chains creaking a steady rhythm. The late afternoon sun turns Jackie’s hair to honey, and Shauna wants to bottle the moment, hold onto it like a pressed flower in a book.

“I’m going to Florida tomorrow,” she says finally, because she hasn’t told Jackie yet, and she hates keeping things from her.

Jackie perks up immediately. “Seriously? That’s awesome! You’re gonna go swimming and see dolphins and eat ice cream every day.” Her smile is big, her voice warm and bright like it always is—like summer.

Shauna shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jackie frowns, narrowing her eyes in that way that always makes Shauna feel like she’s under a magnifying glass. “You don’t sound excited.”

Shauna kicks at the dirt with more force. “I don’t really wanna go.”

“Why not?” Jackie asks, tilting her head.

Shauna hesitates. “My parents can be a lot, and I’m gonna be trapped with them for a whole week.” She doesn’t tell Jackie about the arguments or the fact that they act like she doesn’t exist most of the time. Because how do you tell perfect Jackie that your life is anything less?

Jackie doesn’t say anything right away. Just drags her feet to a stop and lets her swing hang still.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a second. Her voice is quieter now, but steady. “That sucks.”

Shauna nods. It does suck. But somehow hearing Jackie say it out loud makes it feel a little less like a massive weight on her chest. Maybe one day she’ll tell her the real story. 

“And,” Shauna adds, voice even softer, “I don’t wanna leave you.”

Jackie looks over, surprised. Then she grins. “You’re only gonna be gone for a week.”

“That’s a long time.”

“You’ll come back. I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shauna doesn’t answer, but she watches Jackie’s shoes swing gently a few inches above the ground. The silence stretches between them, not uncomfortable, just full.

“Have you ever been on a plane before?” Jackie asks suddenly.

Shauna shakes her head. “No. I don’t like the idea of it. What if it crashes?”

Jackie leans in closer, bumping their knees together. “It won’t crash. I’ve been on one three times. It’s kind of cool. You get pretzels and juice in these tiny cups. And if you look out the window, the clouds look like floating mashed potatoes.”

Shauna laughs, a small burst of sound. “Mashed potatoes?”

“Seriously. It’s weird but kind of pretty.” Jackie pauses, thoughtful. “Sometimes, I like the feeling of taking off. It’s like… your whole stomach lifts up. You feel like a balloon for a second.”

Shauna bites her lip. “What if I freak out?”

Jackie’s face goes serious, like she’s switching into Problem-Solving Mode. “Okay, okay. First: bring gum. Chew it during takeoff so your ears don’t pop. And bring something small to squeeze. Like a plushie or that duck blanket you pretend you don’t care about. And wear your comfiest hoodie. Something soft. Like armor, but for your brain.”

Shauna looks at her, heart aching in a way she can’t explain. “How do you know all this?”

Jackie shrugs. “My mom travels for work. I tag along sometimes.” She flashes a grin. “I’m basically a plane expert.”

There’s a pause. Shauna kicks at a splintered woodchip. Jackie watches her, then glances around the empty playground. Finally, she says, “Do you want a good luck charm?”

Shauna blinks. “What kind?”

Jackie leans over the space between their swings, reaching up to brush Shauna’s hair behind her ear. Her touch is soft and warm. Then, without asking, she leans in and kisses Shauna gently on the cheek. Just the faintest press of lips. Quick, but not rushed.

Shauna freezes.

Jackie pulls back, red creeping across her cheeks. “It’s just for luck,” she mumbles. “So you feel brave.”

Shauna doesn’t say anything for a long second. Then she takes Jackie’s hand and links their pinkies together.

“Okay,” she whispers. “I’ll take it with me.”

2. For Comfort

Shauna’s sitting on the edge of the big hill behind the schoolyard, her knees pulled up to her chest and her hands gripping tight around them. The grass is still damp from the morning, leaving dark spots on her jeans, but she doesn’t care. Her heart is beating too fast, and her hands still shake a little from the fight.

It wasn’t even a real fight, not really. But she pushed him—Jacob Moore—hard enough that he fell backwards onto the pavement. Her palms still sting from where they made contact with his chest.

He’d been teasing her again. About her hair, about her backpack, about how she “always acts like she’s so much smarter than everyone else.” This time, though, there’d been something different in his tone. Something weird. He’d called her pretty, but in the mean way. Like it was supposed to be a joke. And Shauna wasn’t in on the joke.

She doesn’t even know why she reacted the way she did. Just that her chest had filled with something hot and awful, and the next thing she knew, he was on the ground and the teacher was yelling her name.

Footsteps crunch in the grass behind her.

“Hey,” Jackie says, her voice careful but not hesitant.

Shauna doesn’t turn around. “Did they send you to get me?”

“No,” Jackie says, and then sits down beside her anyway. “I saw what happened. You pushed him kinda hard. You know he has a crush on you, right?”

Shauna’s face pulls tight with disgust. “That’s gross.”

“And that’s why you had to make him eat pavement?”

Shauna doesn’t answer. She feels like a balloon someone let go of mid-air. All the energy from earlier is gone, and now she’s just floating, directionless and a little sick. She expects Jackie to admonish her for her little blow up, maybe even laugh at her. 

Jackie pulls a blade of grass from the hill and twirls it between her fingers. “Wanna tell me what’s really wrong?”

Shauna shrugs. “Nothing.”

“ Shauna .”

Her voice is gentle, but it still hits. Shauna sighs. She doesn’t want to say the truth, not yet. It feels too heavy to put into words. So she says the first thing that comes to mind.

“My dad hasn’t been around as much.”

Jackie tilts her head. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Shauna says quickly, voice picking up speed like a sled down a hill. “It’s because he got a new job. He’s, um… he’s the president of Hello Kitty now.” She cringes as the lie comes out of her mouth, but she stands firm in it.

Jackie blinks. “The… president?”

“Yep,” Shauna says, nodding like she’s proud of it. “Very busy. With, you know. Cat meetings. And… bows.”

Jackie snorts. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Shauna smiles, but only for a second.

Jackie doesn’t tease her. She just sits there quietly, picking at the grass until the silence stretches long and soft between them. “You know,” she says finally, “you don’t have to lie. Not with me. You can tell me the real stuff.”

Shauna’s hands tighten around her knees. She looks straight ahead, out toward the chain-link fence and the cracked blacktop of the playground.

“He left,” she says, barely above a whisper. “At the beginning of the year. My mom says it’s fine, but it’s not. I see him on weekends now. Sometimes.”

She doesn’t say the word. Divorced. She doesn’t want to.

Jackie doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then she shifts closer, one leg crossing beneath her so their knees are almost touching. She leans over and presses a kiss to Shauna’s forehead. It’s warm and soft and lingers just a second longer than it needs to.

Shauna blinks. “What was that for?”

“I saw it on TV once,” Jackie says, brushing Shauna’s hair out of her face. “It’s supposed to be comforting. Like, letting you know I’m here for you.”

Shauna’s throat feels tight. She doesn’t know why that makes her want to cry.

“Did it work?” Jackie asks.

Shauna nods, slow and sure. “Yeah. It did.”

They sit there for another beat, then Jackie stands and holds out her hand. Shauna takes it, and they walk together back toward the playground, fingers curled around each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

3. As a Dare

Shauna doesn’t remember when the truth or dare game started—just that one second, they were flipping through Tiger Beat and talking about which boys were cute, and the next, the room was lit only by the yellow cone of a flashlight pressed up under someone’s chin. Pillows and blankets are strewn everywhere across Jackie’s bedroom floor, and the scent of popcorn hangs heavy in the air.

Jackie had invited three other girls from their seventh grade class: Marcy, Amanda, and Becca. They all smell like Bath & Body Works spray and talk like they’ve already lived through high school twice. Shauna doesn’t have much to say, but she keeps laughing when they do, and Jackie always glances her way when she laughs, like she’s checking in.

Jackie’s her best friend. Has been since they first met. That hasn’t changed. Even when Shauna feels like she’s orbiting the edge of the group, Jackie is the sun. Bright. Effortless. Magnetic.

Becca dares Amanda to prank call someone from the school directory. Amanda dares Marcy to chug half a can of warm Coke. Everything’s fizzy and loud and dizzy, until suddenly Becca’s flashlight swings toward Jackie, casting shadows across her smile.

“I dare you to kiss Shauna,” Becca says, drawing out the words with a sly grin. “On the lips.”

The room goes still for a beat too long.

Shauna feels her whole body go stiff. Her laugh stutters. She looks at Jackie, and Jackie’s already laughing—this bright, airy sound like it’s no big deal.

“Are you serious?” Jackie says.

“C’mon, it’s just a dare,” Amanda eggs on, flopped across Jackie’s beanbag. “You have to. You scared, Jackie?”

“Fine,” Jackie says, rolling her eyes like she’s being so put upon. Then she grins at Shauna, nudging her shoulder. “Pucker up, Shipman.”

Shauna tries to match the joke, tries to smile, but her heart is beating so loud in her ears she can barely hear the giggles around them. She thinks: This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a game. Just a game.

Jackie leans in. The kiss is brief—just a soft, warm press of lips, barely a second long. Jackie pulls back with a laugh and dramatic applause breaks out from the others.

“There,” Jackie says, flopping onto her back like she just survived something huge. “That’s real friendship, okay?”

Shauna forces a laugh, tugging at the sleeves of her pajama top. “Guess I should be honored.”

Jackie pokes her in the side. “You should be.”

The game keeps going, but it turns to something else quickly—gossip, ghost stories, someone daring Amanda to sneak downstairs for more Doritos. Everything normal, everything easy.

Except Shauna feels like she’s sinking.

She can still feel the kiss like it’s printed on her skin. Jackie’s laugh rings in her ears, but not in the comforting way it usually does. There was something there— for her, at least—and it’s suddenly too big to hide from.

When it’s time for bed, and the others are tucked into sleeping bags and pillows on the floor, Jackie climbs into her bed and pats the space beside her like always.

But Shauna stays rooted on the carpet in her sleeping bag.

“Too hot up there,” she mumbles.

Jackie doesn’t push. Just yawns and pulls the covers around herself.

Shauna lies awake for a long time after the giggles have faded. She watches the shadows dance across the ceiling. She presses her fingers to her lips and wonders if Jackie can still feel it, too.

But she already knows the answer.

4. For No Reason at All

Shauna doesn’t know how Jackie managed to get them invited. Some upperclassman named Dylan, maybe? A cousin of a friend of a cousin—it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s here, at someone’s parents’ house where the lights are low and the music is loud, and everything smells like cologne, weed, and warm plastic cups.

She feels out of place the second they walk through the door. Jackie strides in like she owns the place, all glossy lips and blonde confidence, laughing with a toss of her hair like it’s all a stage and she’s the star. And Shauna, trailing a few feet behind, is just trying to stay out of the way.

She’s been nursing the same red Solo cup for an hour. The wine in it tastes like sour juice and stains her lips slightly darker. She pretends to sip when someone looks her way. She’s caught at least two guys staring too long—boys she doesn’t know, juniors or seniors, with hoodies that still smell like gym and eyes that drift downward without shame. She keeps moving when that happens. Keeps orbiting.

But she always ends up back here, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, watching Jackie flit from group to group. Jackie knows how to talk to anyone. She throws her head back when she laughs. Her outfit is perfect—just tight enough, just cool enough, as if she walked out of a Delia’s catalog and into this party without a care in the world. Her hair is curled just enough to bounce when she walks, and her green eyes catch every bit of light in the room like they were made for it.

Shauna watches her like someone watches fire—drawn in by the brightness, the danger of it, the way it consumes all the oxygen in the room. Her heart tugs when Jackie turns toward her, mid-laugh, and gives her that dazzling smile. Like she sees her. Like she remembers she brought Shauna with her.

Shauna tries to smile back, but it falters halfway. Jackie’s already turned again, already laughing with someone else. Some tall boy in a varsity jacket who leans a little too close when he talks.

She looks down into her cup, staring at the ripple on the surface of the wine. Her head is light, not from the alcohol—she’s barely had any—but from the feeling twisting around her ribs. It’s been there all night, maybe longer. Maybe since forever.

Jackie’s pretty. She’s always been pretty. But lately, Shauna can’t look at her without feeling like her throat’s closing up. Can’t hear her laugh without something in her chest tightening like a secret she can’t un-know.

She doesn’t know what to do with it. So she sips the wine and tells herself she’s just tired. Just uncomfortable. Just—

“Hey,” Jackie says, suddenly at her side. Her voice is warm and a little giddy, like she’s riding the high of being adored.

Shauna startles slightly, her grip tightening around the cup. “Hey.”

Jackie leans close, smelling like peach body spray and cheap rosé. “You’re so serious over here. You okay?”

Shauna nods. “Yeah. Just… people-y.”

Jackie smiles, her eyes scanning Shauna’s face like she’s checking for cracks. “I shouldn’t’ve left you alone so long. You want me to stay with you?”

And for a second—just a second—Shauna forgets where they are. The music fades to a dull hum. The only thing that exists is Jackie and the way her eyes are glittering and kind and full of something Shauna can’t name.

She would stay if I asked her to , Shauna thinks.

But instead, she shrugs. “You’re having fun. Go have fun.”

Jackie makes a face like you sure? but Shauna just nods again, and Jackie disappears back into the current of the crowd. Shauna’s heart doesn’t stop racing.

Hours pass. The party is still thumping behind her, the bass rattling through the walls like a second heartbeat, but Shauna’s done. She’s done pretending to have fun, done faking sips of wine and dodging hands that brush too close. She just wants to go home.

Jackie stumbles out after her a few minutes later, cheeks flushed and hair a little wild around the edges. Her jacket’s unzipped and one of her earrings is gone, but she’s smiling like the night was made just for her.

“Leaving already, Shipman?” she asks, half-pouting as she bumps her shoulder against Shauna’s.

“You looked like you were busy,” Shauna says, not quite able to keep the bite out of her voice.

Jackie giggles, too tipsy to catch it. “I was mingling. It’s networking, Shauna. Social survival. When you think about it, I’m really doing this for us .”

They’ve barely taken ten steps down the driveway before some guy—someone Shauna vaguely recognizes from math class—calls after them. “Hey! You girls need a ride?”

“No, we’re good,” Shauna says quickly, already reaching for Jackie’s arm.

The guy keeps coming. “C’mon, it’s late. It’s not safe to walk.”

Shauna steps in front of Jackie without thinking. “We said we’re good. Go back inside.”

He raises his hands, mock surrender, and slinks back into the house with a muttered whatever.

Jackie sways a little beside her, then laughs, wrapping her arms around Shauna’s shoulders. “You’re my savior,” she murmurs, warm and soft and slurred with affection. “My brave little bodyguard.”

Shauna snorts. “I’ve got like an inch on you.”

“Semantics.”

They walk in silence for a few blocks, the night quiet and cool around them. Jackie hums some pop song under her breath, off-key and dreamy. Streetlights flicker above them like they’re the only two girls in the whole world. It feels unreal, suspended.

Then Jackie suddenly stops, wobbling a little on one foot. “Wait—ugh, my shoe.”

She bends, trying to fix the strap on her sandal, but loses her balance. Her hand catches Shauna’s arm as she steadies herself. “Okay, who made sidewalks tilt?”

Shauna steadies her with both hands. “Maybe the wine.”

Jackie leans into her, one arm still looped loosely around Shauna’s shoulders for balance. She looks up, grinning, her eyes big and soft under the yellow streetlamp.

And then she kisses her.

It’s slower this time—gentler than the truth-or-dare kiss in seventh grade, and nothing like the party version of Jackie who flits from group to group. It’s soft and warm and real. Shauna freezes. Her heart is hammering in her ears. Jackie’s lips are on hers, and all her thoughts are scattering like leaves in the wind.

When Jackie pulls back, Shauna stares at her, breath caught. “What… what was that for?”

Jackie tilts her head, her smile lazy and sweet. “Just because,” she says, like that’s the whole explanation.

Shauna doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say. Her body is still tingling, her brain full of static. Jackie just hums again, starts walking, and Shauna follows her all the way home, her feet barely touching the ground.

When they crawl into Jackie’s bed later that night, everything feels delicate. Jackie’s hand brushes Shauna’s under the blanket. She’s already halfway asleep, her breath evening out against the pillow.

Shauna lies there with her eyes open, heart racing. Thinking.

Replaying.

Holding onto the kiss like it might vanish if she lets herself blink too long.

But in the morning, Jackie stretches and yawns and smiles like nothing ever happened.

Shauna doesn’t mention it.

She just smiles back and swallows the memory like a secret she doesn’t know how to keep—but can’t bear to let go.

5. For Practice

Jackie’s room is exactly the same as it’s always been—bright, cozy, a little too pink. There’s a boyband poster curling at the corners over her dresser, and fairy lights drape along the ceiling like a canopy of stars. The movie on her tiny TV plays quietly, the dialogue muffled by the hum of the box fan and the soft click of her brush through Shauna’s hair.

Shauna sits on the floor between Jackie’s knees, legs tucked underneath her. Jackie hums as she sections and braids her hair, the rhythm of it soothing. Shauna doesn’t mind being touched like this—at least not by Jackie. It’s one of the only times she feels calm, like she doesn’t have to say anything to still feel known.

“I think Jeff wants to kiss me soon,” Jackie says, almost too casually.

Shauna stiffens for a second before forcing her shoulders back down. She makes a noncommittal sound in her throat.

Jackie doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to. “We’ve been talking about it. Or, well, I brought it up, kind of jokingly, but he got all serious. I think he’s waiting for the perfect moment. You know, candlelight or whatever.”

“Romantic,” Shauna says, managing to keep her voice light.

“I guess,” Jackie sighs. “But it’s kind of scary too, right? Like, what if I’m bad at it? What if I do something wrong and he thinks I’m totally lame?”

Shauna lets out a quiet snort. “You? Please. You could kiss a wall and it would melt.”

Jackie laughs, the sound bright and easy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re the one making a huge deal out of one kiss.”

“It’s my first kiss, Shauna. Something that neither of us has ever experienced before. It matters.” Her voice is giddy, like kissing a boy is the single most exciting thing in the world. It makes Shauna…angry? 

Shauna tenses again. “Right,” she says. “First.”

Jackie starts a new braid, fingers tugging gently. “Unless you’re hiding some big secret—have you kissed anyone?”

Shauna shakes her head. “Nope.”

Jackie hums. “Not even... like... practice? You never played spin the bottle or anything at summer camp?”

Shauna shrugs. “Didn’t go to summer camp.”

“Oh. Right.” There’s a pause. Then Jackie says, “Well, I guess our seventh grade kiss doesn’t really count, huh?”

Shauna tries not to let her breath catch. “Why wouldn’t it count?”

Jackie laughs, dismissive. “It was a dare, remember? And we were, what, twelve?”

“Still happened.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Jackie says, like it’s obvious. “That wasn’t romantic. It was just stupid sleepover stuff.”

Shauna smiles with her mouth but not her eyes. “Right. Stupid sleepover stuff.”

She can feel Jackie’s fingers slow a little, the braid nearly done. The weight of the conversation presses on her like a blanket that’s suddenly too warm.

“You ever think about it?” Shauna asks before she can stop herself. “That kiss?”

Jackie shrugs, then giggles again. “Not really. I mean, it was funny. But no. Not like... seriously.”

Shauna nods. It feels like her stomach’s trying to fold in on itself. She’s talking too much and she bites down on her lip to keep from making this moment any stranger than it already is. Jackie ties the braid with a thin pink ribbon and leans forward, arms looping around Shauna’s shoulders as she rests her chin on top of her head.

“You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean like... in a good way. You don’t care what people think. You’re not all obsessed with boys and gossip; you’re, like, well-rounded.”

“Not like you,” Shauna says, teasing, but there’s an edge to it.

Jackie pinches her side. “Hey! I’m well-rounded. ”

Shauna laughs, softer now. “You’re boy crazy.”

“I am not boy crazy,” Jackie protests. “I’m... boy-aware.”

“Oh wow, such a difference.”

Jackie grins. “Well, when are you gonna get yourself a man?”

Shauna groans. “God.”

“I’m serious!” Jackie says, scooting around to face her. “You’re smart and so fucking pretty and, most importantly, not a total freak. So what gives?”

Shauna shrugs, eyes on the discarded popcorn bowl. “I’m just focusing on school right now. There’s plenty of time for that stuff later.”

Jackie raises an eyebrow. “You sound like a cat lady in the making.”

Shauna smirks. “Thanks.”

Jackie rolls her eyes and flops backward onto the bed, arms spread wide. “You’re hopeless.”

Shauna watches her for a long second—how the strands of her blonde hair fan out over the pillow, how effortlessly pretty she is without even trying. Her chest aches with everything she’s not saying.

“Yeah,” she says softly, almost to herself. “Guess I am.”

Jackie suddenly sits up, grinning. “You know, I think I need to practice.”

Shauna blinks, not sure she heard right. “Practice?”

“Yeah! Like, you know, the whole kiss thing. I should, like, try it out before Jeff and I—well, you know. Make sure I don’t mess up.”

Shauna raises an eyebrow. “Practice with who?”

Jackie wiggles her eyebrows. “With you, of course.”

“Me?” Shauna’s voice cracks just slightly.

Jackie shrugs, completely casual. “You’re my best friend. You can pretend to be Jeff.”

Shauna stares at her, completely stunned. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend? You don’t think that’s a little, I don’t know, weird?”

Jackie smirks. “Uh, no. I mean, you know him well enough. You should be able to act the part with some accuracy.”

Shauna laughs, nervous, unsure if she’s supposed to feel weird about this. “You’re a terrible person.”

“I’m serious, Shauna! You can’t help me if you don’t know how to do it right.”

Shauna opens her mouth to protest, but the little devil on her shoulder nudges her forward. What’s the harm?

“You want me to make out with you, basically,” Shauna says, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Not make out! Just kiss. Practice. Think of it like a... warm-up .”

She doesn’t give Shauna time to think, just pushes forward with that grin, like she’s teasing, but also waiting for Shauna to get on with it. Shauna exhales slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. She’s done this before—pretended, acted, played the part of “normal” so many times that she’s good at it by now. But inside, her heart races in a way it’s never done before.

She shifts a little. “Fine, whatever. But I’m going to make fun of Jeff. I have to, or I’ll die.”

Jackie laughs, clearly thinking it’s funny. “Fair enough.”

Shauna rolls her eyes and scoots a little closer, crossing her arms like Jeff might. She deepens her voice a little to mimic what she imagines he sounds like.

“Hey, Jackie,” she says, trying to sound all cocky, “You’re looking pretty hot tonight.”

Jackie snorts. “That’s a terrible Jeff impression.”

“Oh, come on, he sounds like that,” Shauna says, turning her head to look at Jackie. “He’s always so full of himself, right?”

Jackie glares but can’t hide her smile. “Don’t make me laugh. Be serious.”

Shauna tilts her head. “I am serious! Jeff is a walking, talking cliché. I’m just helping you practice so you don’t fall for it.”

Jackie rolls her eyes, clearly giving up on the whole “seriousness” thing. “Fine. Let's skip forward a bit.”

The room is quieter now, the air charged with something Shauna can’t put her finger on. Jackie moves a little closer, her eyes meeting Shauna’s, and for a brief, unsteady second, Shauna wonders if Jackie sees what she’s thinking. She wonders if Jackie feels the same way about her.

But then Jackie’s fingers find her chin, and her breath catches as Jackie gently turns her head. “This is how it goes, right?” Jackie says softly, voice low, a little teasing.

Shauna’s heart is pounding in her chest, but she nods anyway. “Yeah. I assume so.”

Jackie leans in, slow, tentative. Shauna’s pulse races faster as their lips brush, light and soft, like they’re testing the waters. It’s nothing like the wild, hurried kisses in movies or even the ones she’s imagined when she was younger. It’s soft, almost unsure, but still enough to make her head spin.

Shauna holds her breath, feeling Jackie’s lips move just a little more, until she’s kissing her back. Her hand moves from Jackie’s chin to her neck, and Jackie lets out a soft sigh, pressing a little closer. For a moment, everything is quiet except the sound of their breaths, their lips meeting over and over in a sweet rhythm that feels like it could go on forever.

Shauna’s chest tightens. This isn’t like anything she expected. It feels real. More than real.

And then, just as quickly as it started, Jackie pulls back, breathless and flushed. She laughs a little, shaky, and Shauna can barely focus, still lost in the softness of it all. Jackie’s smile is bright, but there’s a distance to it. “Well, that was... good, I guess?”

Shauna stays silent for a moment, her heart in her throat. The moment is slipping through her fingers, fading like the last light of the day.

“You’ll be good at it,” Shauna says quietly, almost a whisper.

Jackie nods, her lips splitting into a wide, conspiratorial grin. “Woah, Shauna. You’re, like, an amazing kisser. Whoever you decide to give the time of day to is going to be one lucky fella.”

Shauna forces a smile, even though her chest feels like it’s cracking open. “Yeah. Lucky.”

Jackie doesn’t notice the way Shauna’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She doesn’t notice the way Shauna’s heart aches, bruised and full of all the things she can’t say. Shauna swallows hard and looks away, burying everything deep inside, hoping it will stay there, hoping it won’t bleed out into the space between them.

If she were a boy, would Jackie be hers? Would she look at her the way she looks at Jeff? Would she be the one Jackie leaned into, the one who got to kiss her over and over again? But Jackie’s already moving on, talking about the things that don’t include her. She’s fantasizing about Jeff in Shauna’s place, and that’s the only way this was going to go.

Shauna nods and says, “I think you’ll do great.”

And she wonders, as the silence stretches, if she can keep lying to herself. Keep pretending it doesn’t hurt to know that the one person she’s always wanted isn’t hers to keep. Then, she realizes, she has to. There is no other option. 

+1. For Saying Goodbye

The pyre stands before them, and the cold feels endless.

Shauna kneels in the snow, hands trembling as they hover over Jackie’s body. She hasn’t stopped shaking since they pulled her out of the snowbank weeks ago, her limbs stiff, her eyes closed like she’s only sleeping. But Jackie isn’t sleeping. She’s never going to wake up.

The others stand back, silent. The wilderness watches too.

Shauna looks down at her, barely breathing. Jackie’s lips are blue, her skin almost translucent, but still—still she’s so beautiful . Like she always was. Like she always will be in Shauna’s memory. Her hair is dusted with snow, tangled, half-frozen to her temple. Shauna’s hand reaches out on instinct, brushing back the locks from her forehead where her ear is still whole.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice cracking on the words. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She thinks of their last conversation—no, their last fight . Jackie’s voice was sharp, accusing, but her eyes had been soft. Like maybe, even then, she hadn’t wanted to hurt her.

“You’re in love with me,” Jackie had said, like it was the most offensive thing in the world. “And you act like it’s my responsibility to lez out with you. You act like you’re so high and mighty, Shauna but you’re just mad I didn’t fuck you instead of Travis. If I did, we wouldn’t even be having this stupid conversation!”

Jackie took a few steps to stand face to face with Shauna and, despite herself, her heart hammered in her chest. Anything to have her this close. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I don’t want to see you tonight. I think you should leave.” 

And Shauna—stupid, panicked, raw—had lashed back.

“Fuck you, Jackie. You kissed me, every single fucking time!” Shauna steps even closer, their breath mingling. “You’re such a fucking bitch and you control everything about me! I feel like I can’t breathe without you telling me how to do it better. I don’t think I’m the one who should be leaving.” The last words came out like a threat; Jackie stands there, unmoving with her arms crossed over her chest.

The rest of the girls don’t move, they don’t tell Jackie to stay. And the fight drained out of Jackie in an instant. Shauna watched with a sick mix of satisfaction and grief. “Get out,” she snaps, pointing towards the door. 

“Fuck you guys,” Jackie mutters as she hastily gathers her things. “Fuck every single one of you.” And the door slams shut behind her. 

She hadn’t meant it. Not really. Not all of it.

And now she’s gone .

Shauna leans forward, pressing a trembling kiss to Jackie’s forehead. Her lips burn against the frozen skin. “I love you,” she sobs. “God, Jackie, I love you.” She waits for a reply. For a flicker of breath. For a miracle.

But there’s nothing. Why would there be?

There’s only silence.

Only her heartbeat pounding in her ears and the sound of her grief spilling out of her like blood.

She remembers another time. A simpler time. Fourth grade. Jackie had kissed her forehead, too—soft and sweet—after Shauna finally admitted what was breaking her apart inside. Her father. The weekends. The weight of it all.

“What’s that for?” she had asked, small and uncertain.

Jackie had smiled. “I saw it on TV. It’s for comfort. To let you know I’m here for you.”

Shauna breaks.

She collapses in front of Jackie, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her fingers graze Jackie’s one last time before they’re pulled away. The others begin the burning.

And Shauna weeps as smoke coils into the sky, as fire eats the body of the only person she’s ever loved like this. The only person who made her feel known—even when it hurt.She stays kneeling in the snow long after the flames rise high. Her knees numb, her fingers curled into fists. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t move.

Eventually, Tai pulls her inside. Doesn’t say anything, just wraps her in a blanket and orders her to get some rest. 

There is a small solace in her being able to finally give Jackie a kiss. It’s not the romantic, life-altering one she has dreamed of for so long. It’s one to say goodbye.