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Summary
“Do you think my hair smells?” Jackie asks suddenly. She takes her hand off of Shauna’s knee to pat at her hair self-consciously, and Shauna’s skin mourns the loss of contact.
Shauna leans forward into Jackie’s personal space and inhales, her nose inches from the space where Jackie’s hair meets her shoulder. She closes her eyes. Definitely the weed.
“No,” she says, but she takes a second to lean away. “I just get your shampoo.”
Or: The one where they go to a party and take the pictures that end up on Shauna's mirror and Jackie's dresser.
