Chapter Text
“Shauna… can we just, stop for a second?” Mari muttered, lightly pushing at Shauna’s bare shoulder so she could look at her.
The room was dim except for the thin strip of hallway light leaking in under the door. The air felt heavy — humid with August heat and something unspoken. Shauna froze for half a second before pulling back.
She sighed, dragging one of her bra straps back up onto her shoulder with sharp, impatient fingers. “Listen, Mari, this is just a stress reliever once every week. It’s not like we like each other anyway.”
Mari blinked at her.
The words hit harder than they should have.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, then fully sat up, grabbing her crumpled shirt from the floor. It took her a second to find the armholes in the dark. “Well, yeah, I guess…” she muttered, trying to sound casual. She tugged the shirt over her head, her voice muffled for a moment. “But, gaywad— I just think—”
“Enough, Mari.” Shauna snapped.
She was already on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it back into something presentable. Like if she fixed the outside fast enough, nothing underneath would show. “We don’t think. We just go at it like dogs.”
Mari rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite in it. Just hurt.
“Right,” she said flatly.
The mattress dipped as Shauna stood, crossing the room to check her reflection in the mirror taped to her closet door. She adjusted her shirt, wiped at her smudged eyeliner with the heel of her hand.
Mari watched her.
She wanted to yell. To tell her she’s not fooling anyone. To say she’s definitely seen the way Shauna looks at Jackie in the locker room — how her eyes linger too long, how her jaw tightens when Jackie laughs at something someone else says. How this whole “we don’t think” thing is the biggest lie she’s ever heard.
Mari swings her legs off the bed slowly, like she’s buying time she doesn’t actually have.
The floorboards are cool under her feet. It makes her shiver — not from the temperature.
“You know,” she says, too casual, too light, “for something we ‘don’t think’ about, you sure get weird after.”
Shauna doesn’t turn around.
“I don’t get weird.”
Mari lets out a quiet laugh. “You absolutely do.”
Shauna’s shoulders go rigid in the mirror. Their eyes meet through the reflection — Mari sitting rumpled and half-dressed on the bed, Shauna standing straight-backed like she’s bracing for impact.
“You start acting like I don’t exist,” Mari continues. “Hallways, practice, lunch. You won’t even look at me.”
“That’s called being smart,” Shauna shoots back. “You want people to figure it out? You want them talking?”
Mari stands now too, stepping closer but not all the way. There’s still space between them. There’s always space.
“They already talk,” Mari says quietly. “They just don’t know what about.”
Shauna finally turns around. There’s something sharp in her expression — defensive, almost cornered.
“This isn’t—” she starts, then stops. Swallows. “This isn’t about anything. It’s just—”
“—just stress,” Mari finishes for her.
Silence.
The hallway light flickers when someone passes outside. Both of them glance at the door instinctively. The fear is automatic. Learned.
Mari lowers her voice. “You think I don’t see it?”
Shauna’s jaw tightens. “See what.”
“Jackie.”
The name hangs there.
It changes the air. Makes it thinner.
Shauna’s expression shutters immediately. “Don’t.”
“I’m not blind, Shauna. You look at her like she hung the moon. And then you come here and act like I’m some kind of—” She gestures vaguely between them. “—substitute.”
“That’s not—” Shauna cuts herself off again. Her hands ball into fists at her sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mari steps closer now. Close enough that she can see the faint flush still lingering on Shauna’s neck.
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
Shauna opens her mouth.
Nothing comes out.