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“What is wrong with you?”
The words were a hot, furious whisper in Shauna’s ear, Jackie’s hand a vise around her wrist. The bathroom door slammed shut behind them, the lock clicking with a definitive, terrifying finality. The thumping bass from Jeff’s stupid party became a muffled, distant pulse, like a dying heart.
“Jackie, let go, you’re hurting me,” Shauna hissed, trying to wrench her arm free. But Jackie just pushed her back against the cold tile wall, caging her in with a forearm on either side of Shauna’s head. Her face, usually a perfect mask of sunny indifference, was a storm cloud. Her green eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with something that looked a lot more like fury than the cheap beer everyone was drinking.
“Hurting you?” Jackie spat. Her breath smelled like cherry lip gloss and vodka. “You want to talk about hurt? I’ve been watching you make a total spectacle of yourself all night with that… that freshman.”
Shauna’s heart hammered against her ribs. “Melissa? She’s a sophomore. And I was just talking to her.”
“You weren’t just talking, Shauna. I have eyes.” Jackie leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous, intimate rasp. “The leaning in. The laughing at nothing. The way you kept touching her arm. Do you think I’m stupid?”
A hot wave of shame and defiance washed over Shauna. She had been flirting. Melissa was
cute, with a sharp, clever smile and a way of looking at her that made Shauna feel seen, not just as Jackie Taylor’s best friend, her shadow. For two hours, she’d felt like her own person. And of course Jackie had noticed. Jackie noticed everything, especially when the attention wasn’t on her.
“I can talk to whoever I want,” Shauna said, lifting her chin, trying to muster a strength she didn’t feel. “I don’t need your permission, Jackie.”
Jackie’s laugh was short and harsh. “Oh, really? So what’s the plan, Shipman? You’re going to ditch me, ditch Jeff, go be with some girl nobody’s ever heard of?” She said ‘Shipman’ like it was a curse, a weapon she only used when she was truly pissed. “You think she gets you? You think she knows you like I do?”
The question hung in the steamy air between them. The bathroom was still humid from someone’s recent shower, the mirror fogged at the edges. Shauna could see their blurred reflections—Jackie’s golden hair, her own dark, anxious eyes.
“It’s not about that,” Shauna muttered, looking away. “God, why are you being so… possessive?”
“Because you’re mine!” The words burst out of Jackie, raw and startling. For a second, she looked as shocked as Shauna felt. She took a shaky breath, her facade cracking. “You’re my best friend. And you were over there, with her, and I… I couldn’t stand it.”
The admission, so un-Jackie-like in its vulnerability, disarmed Shauna more than the anger had. She saw it then—the jealousy wasn’t just about territory. It was frantic, almost frightened. Shauna’s defiance flickered, smothered by the old, familiar pull. The need to soothe her, to placate the storm.
It had started like every other party at Jeff’s house. Loud, sprawling, and suffused with the dull ache of something Shauna could never quite name. She was 19, a college freshman clinging to the fraying edges of high school glory. And Jackie, beautiful, magnetic Jackie, was the sun at the center of it all, holding court on the leather sectional, Jeff’s arm draped over her shoulders like a trophy sash.
Shauna had been perched on the arm of the couch, nursing a warm beer, feeling like a ghost in her own life. She was Jackie’s best friend. The writer. The listener. The one who held Jackie’s hair back and agreed that yes, that skirt did make her look fat. She loved her. God, she loved her so much it was a physical ache, a constant, humiliating throb beneath her sternum. And she hated her a little, too. For being so effortlessly everything Shauna wasn’t. For having Jeff. For being so blindingly, obliviously straight.
That’s when Melissa found her. A sophomore from Shauna’s lit class, with blonde hair and a nose ring.
“Shauna, right? Hiding from the circus?” she’d said, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen.
They’d escaped to the quieter back porch. Melissa talked about books with a passion that made Shauna’s heart leap. She was sarcastic, and smart, and she looked at Shauna—really looked—and seemed to like what she saw. The attention was a drug. With every laugh, every casual brush of their hands as they shared a cigarette, Shauna felt a piece of the old, constricting shell crack away. She felt interesting. Desired. It was a thrilling, terrifying novelty.
And the whole time, she was achingly aware of Jackie’s gaze. She could feel it like a laser point between her shoulder blades. She’d glance through the sliding glass door and see Jackie, still on the couch, but her smile had become fixed, her laughter a beat too late. Jeff was whispering in her ear, but Jackie’s eyes were locked on the porch.
The more Jackie stared, the more Shauna leaned into the performance. She tossed her hair. She touched Melissa’s arm to emphasize a point. She threw her head back and laughed, a real, unguarded sound she hadn’t heard from herself in months. It was a rebellion, a tiny, desperate act of self-assertion.
She saw the exact moment Jackie snapped. It was when Melissa tucked a stray piece of Shauna’s hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering for a second too long. Jackie stood up so abruptly she almost knocked Jeff’s drink out of his hand. She cut through the crowd like a torpedo, all blonde hair and burning purpose. She didn’t say a word to Melissa. Just grabbed Shauna’s wrist with a grip that felt like it could break bone.
“We need to talk. Now.”
And now they were here. In this too-bright bathroom, with the weight of 13 years of friendship and every unspoken thing pressing down on them.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Shauna said, but her voice had lost its edge.
“Am I?” Jackie’s gaze was searching, roaming over Shauna’s face. “You liked it. You liked her watching you. Did you like me watching you?”
The question was a direct hit. Shauna’s breath caught. She couldn’t lie. Not with Jackie this close. “I… I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” Jackie’s voice softened, turning speculative, dangerous. “You wanted to make me jealous. Admit it.”
“No, I—”
“Admit it, Shauna.”
The command, whispered against her lips, unraveled her. “Fine! Maybe. A little. Is that what you want to hear?” The confession was a release, a floodgate opening. “You have everything, Jackie. Everything. And for one night, I just wanted… something that was mine. Something you didn’t give me.”
Jackie was silent for a long moment. The anger seemed to drain from her, replaced by something more intense, more focused. “You think I give you nothing?” she murmured, her eyes dropping to Shauna’s mouth. “You have no idea.”
Then, with a certainty that stole the air from Shauna’s lungs, Jackie kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t a question. It was a claiming. A hot, insistent pressure that was all tongue and teeth and cherry gloss. Shauna froze, her mind screaming a dozen different protests. Jeff. Best friends. She’s straight. This is wrong.
But her body… her body had been waiting for this for years. A low, desperate moan escaped her, and her hands, which had been braced against the wall, came up to clutch at the front of Jackie’s silky top. She kissed her back, a surge of pent-up hunger making her clumsy and fierce. It was messy, and angry, and perfect.
Jackie made a small, triumphant sound against her mouth and deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in Shauna’s dark hair, pulling just hard enough to sting. The other hand slid from the wall, down Shauna’s side, coming to rest on the curve of her hip, her thumb pressing into the soft flesh there.
When they finally broke apart, gasping, their foreheads pressed together, the world had narrowed to the space between their bodies. Shauna’s lips felt swollen, sensitive.
“See?” Jackie whispered, her voice ragged. Her eyes were glazed, triumphant. “That’s what you want. Not some stupid girl who doesn’t know the first thing about you.”
“Jackie…” Shauna’s protest was weak, her body still humming from the kiss.
“No. Don’t.” Jackie’s hand left her hip and came up to cradle Shauna’s jaw, her touch surprisingly tender now. “You think I don’t see you? I see you more than anyone. I know when you’re faking a smile. I know what you look like when you’re about to cry. I know you, Shauna.” Her thumb stroked Shauna’s cheekbone. “And that girl… she doesn’t know you like this.”
She leaned in again, but this time her kiss was different. Softer. An exploration. She traced the seam of Shauna’s lips with her tongue until Shauna opened for her with a shuddering sigh. This kiss was slower, deeper, a devastating demonstration of intimacy. It was a kiss that said, I know your secrets, and I want them anyway.
Shauna was drowning in it. Her hands slid up Jackie’s back, feeling the delicate ridge of her spine through the thin fabric. She was hyper-aware of every point of contact: Jackie’s thigh slotting between hers, the press of their breasts together, the frantic, matching rhythm of their hearts.
Jackie began to trail kisses away from Shauna’s mouth, down her jaw, to the sensitive spot just below her ear. “She doesn’t know this makes you shiver,” Jackie breathed, her lips moving against Shauna’s skin.
Shauna’s head fell back against the tile with a soft thud, her eyes fluttering closed. “Jackie… we can’t…”
“Why?” Jackie’s hands went to the hem of Shauna’s simple top. “Because of Jeff?” She said his name like it was a joke. “He’s downstairs talking about soccer. He has no idea what’s happening up here. No idea what you need.”
With a slow, deliberate pull, Jackie drew Shauna’s top up and over her head, tossing it aside. The cool bathroom air hit Shauna’s skin, raising goosebumps. She stood there in her plain, practical bra, feeling excruciatingly exposed. Jackie leaned back, her gaze a hot, physical weight as it traveled over Shauna’s torso.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Jackie murmured, and it didn’t sound like a line. It sounded like awe.
Shauna wanted to cover herself. She wanted to pull Jackie back and never let her stop looking. The conflict must have shown on her face.
“It’s just me,” Jackie whispered, as if reading her mind. Her fingers traced the lace edge of Shauna’s bra, not removing it, just teasing the skin beneath. “It’s always been just me, hasn’t it?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She dipped her head, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of Shauna’s breast above the cup. Shauna gasped, her fingers tangling in Jackie’s perfect blonde hair. This was wrong. It was chaos. It was everything.
Jackie’s hands went to the button of Shauna’s jeans. The click of it opening was louder than the party downstairs.
The metallic scritch of the zipper being pulled down was a slow, torturous sound. Shauna’s breath hitched, her hips twitching forward involuntarily as if to meet the motion, then back against the cold tile in a futile attempt at escape. The denim was loose now, sagging at her hips, held up only by the friction of the fabric and the sheer, paralyzing tension in the room.
Jackie’s fingers didn’t push the jeans down. Not yet. They rested there, hooked in the waistband, her knuckles brushing the bare skin of Shauna’s lower stomach. She was watching Shauna’s face, a predatory, knowing smile playing on her kiss-swollen lips.
“See?” Jackie whispered, her voice husky from kissing. “You’re not stopping me.”
“I am,” Shauna breathed, the lie so thin it was transparent. Her hands were still fisted in the silk of Jackie’s top, but they weren’t pushing her away. They were holding on, anchors in a dizzying storm.
“You’re not.” Jackie leaned in, her forehead resting against Shauna’s again. Her eyes were so close they blurred into a single, mesmerizing pool of green. “Your body is screaming for it. All that time with… what’s her name again?”
“Melissa,” Shauna supplied automatically, then hated herself for it.
“Right. Melissa.” Jackie scoffed, the name a dismissive puff of air against Shauna’s cheek. “All that flirting, all that leaning… it was just a warm-up for this. For me. Admit it.”
The command was back, but softer now, wrapped in the velvet of intimacy. It was more dangerous than the shout. Shauna squeezed her eyes shut. She could smell Jackie’s perfume, the vodka, the cherry gloss, and underneath it, the clean, familiar scent that was just her. It was the scent of sleepovers and shared secrets, of borrowed sweaters and whispered gossip in the dark. It was the scent of home, and it was currently making Shauna feel like she was about to combust.
“No,” Shauna whispered.
Jackie’s laugh was a low, thrilling vibration against her. “You’re a terrible liar, Shipman. Always have been.” Her hooked fingers tightened in Shauna’s jeans, giving a slight, insistent tug. The denim slid another inch. “Now, if you want this… if you want me… you’re going to have to say it. You’re going to have to admit I’m better than her.”
Shauna’s eyes flew open. The sheer, breathtaking arrogance of it cut through the fog of desire. “You’re insane.”
“Am I?” Jackie pulled back just enough to look at her fully, her head tilted. The blonde hair was mussed from Shauna’s hands, and she looked more beautiful, more real, than Shauna had ever seen her. “You think I didn’t see you watching me? For years? At practice, at my house, in the locker room? You think I didn’t know?”
A hot, searing shame flooded Shauna’s veins. It was one thing to nurse a silent, hopeless crush. It was another to have it laid bare, dissected by the object of it with such casual, devastating accuracy. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know you,” Jackie repeated, her earlier words taking on a new, deeper meaning. “And I know that right now, you’re dying for me to prove it. So.” She shifted her weight, her thigh pressing more firmly between Shauna’s. The pressure was electric, even through the layers of denim. “Admit it.”
The fight left Shauna in a rush, replaced by a trembling, desperate need. It was humiliation and desire twisted into one unbearable knot. “This doesn’t prove you’re better,” she managed, her voice cracking. “It just proves you’re a bully who can’t stand not being the center of attention.”
Jackie’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened. She loved this. The confrontation, the push and pull. It was a game she knew she would win. “Maybe. But if I’m such a bully, why are you so wet for me?”
Shauna jerked as if struck. “I’m not.”
“You’re not?” Jackie’s free hand, the one not tangled in her jeans, slid around from Shauna’s hip, tracing a path up her ribcage, over the plain cotton of her bra. Her touch was feather-light, maddening. “I’m not really sure about that, Jackie,” she mimicked, her voice a high, teasing parody of Shauna’s. “Should get to know her a little more.” She laughed then, a short, hysterical sound that was all sharp edges. “Ah, it’s fine. I don’t think she could get you as wet as I can, anyway. Or could she? Tell me. Maybe I’m wrong. Should I check, Shipman?”
The direct, crude challenge was like a splash of cold water and gasoline at the same time. It ignited something furious and hungry in Shauna’s gut. “I’m not wet for you, you fucking egomaniac.”
“No?” Jackie’s eyes glittered with a feverish light. “I think you are. I think you’re dying to have my fingers inside you, touching you in a way no one ever has.” Her hand, which had been tracing circles on Shauna’s ribs, drifted down again, past her navel, stopping just at the top of her pubic bone, outside the fabric of her jeans and underwear. She pressed down, not moving, just letting the heat of her palm radiate through. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Shauna’s mouth was dry. Every nerve ending was screaming, focused on that single point of contact. She could feel the dampness between her own legs, a traitorous, undeniable truth. She hated her. She wanted her. The two feelings were inseparable.
“You’re…” Shauna began, but the denial died in her throat. A low, ragged moan escaped instead as Jackie finally moved her hand, cupping her fully through her jeans. The pressure was perfect, agonizing.
“I’m what?” Jackie breathed, her lips brushing Shauna’s ear. She began to move her hand in a slow, circular motion, the rough denim providing a friction that made Shauna’s knees buckle. “Say it.”
Tears of frustration and overwhelming sensation pricked at Shauna’s eyes. She was unravelling, and Jackie was watching every thread come loose with rapt, possessive attention. “You’re… better,” she choked out, the words tasting like ash and honey.
“Louder.”
“You’re better!” The confession was torn from her, half-sob, half-sigh. It felt like a surrender and a victory all at once.
Jackie made a soft, satisfied sound. “At what? Be specific, baby.”
God, the pet name. It shattered her. “At… at this. At making me feel…”
“At making you feel what?” Jackie’s motions with her hand became more deliberate, a firm, rhythmic pressure that had Shauna’s hips rocking forward to meet it of their own volition.
“Like I’m going to die,” Shauna gasped, the truth finally, utterly laid bare. It was the core of it. This all-consuming, terrifying need felt fatal.
For a moment, Jackie stilled. The triumph in her eyes softened, shifted into something more complex, more raw. She looked almost… shaken. As if Shauna’s raw admission had reached a part of her the game hadn’t been meant to touch.
Then the mask slid back, but it was different now. Softer at the edges. “You’re not going to die,” she murmured, her voice losing its taunting edge. “I’ve got you.”
With a final, decisive tug, she pulled Shauna’s jeans and underwear down over her hips in one smooth motion. The cool air hit Shauna’s skin, and she shuddered violently, feeling more exposed than she ever had in her life. The clothes pooled around her ankles, a puddle of denim and cotton on the bathroom floor.
Jackie took a half-step back, her gaze traveling down Shauna’s body with a reverence that stole the air from the room. Shauna stood there, bra still on, her lower half completely bare, trembling against the wall. She wanted to cover herself, to hide, but she was pinned by Jackie’s look.
“See?” Jackie whispered, her own breathing uneven. “You’re perfect" "I always watch you when you come out of the shower after practice, all pink from the steam”
She closed the distance again, but instead of the aggressive claiming from before, she wrapped her arms around Shauna’s waist and pulled her into a deep, consuming kiss. It was all tongue and heat and shared breath, a kiss that felt like drowning in the best possible way. Shauna melted into it, her arms winding around Jackie’s neck, her body arching into the solid warmth of her.
Jackie’s hands slid down to grasp the backs of Shauna’s thighs, and with a grunt of effort, she lifted her. Shauna yelped in surprise, her legs instinctively wrapping around Jackie’s waist. Jackie turned and carried her the two steps to the bathroom counter, setting her down on the cold, hard surface. The edge bit into the backs of her thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat blooming everywhere else.
Now they were eye to eye. Jackie stood between Shauna’s spread legs, her hands resting on Shauna’s bare knees. The position was impossibly intimate, vulnerable, and dominant all at once.
“You belong to me,” Jackie stated, her voice a low thrum of certainty. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact she was cementing into the universe.
“Jackie…” Shauna’s protest was a weak thread.
“You do. You always have.” Jackie’s hands slid up Shauna’s thighs, her thumbs drawing slow, maddening circles on the sensitive skin of her inner legs, moving higher with each pass. “And I’m going to show you why.”
She leaned forward, capturing Shauna’s mouth once more in a searing kiss as her hands continued their journey. Shauna was lightheaded, her entire world reduced to the feel of Jackie’s mouth, Jackie’s hands, the cold counter beneath her, and the roaring of her own blood in her ears.
Jackie’s thumbs finally brushed the very tops of her inner thighs, a hair’s breadth from where Shauna was aching, throbbing for contact. She stopped there, maintaining the teasing, circular pressure just outside.
“Please,” Shauna whimpered into the kiss, the word swallowed by Jackie’s mouth. She hadn’t meant to say it. It had just fallen out, a broken piece of her will.
Jackie broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into Shauna’s desperate, clouded eyes. A slow, devastating smile spread across her face. “Please, what?”
Shauna shook her head, humiliation warring with need. She couldn’t say it.
“Tell me what you want, Shauna.” Jackie’s voice was a gentle command. “Use your words.”
“I want…” The sentence was a cliff edge. “I want you to… touch me.”
Jackie’s thumbs stilled. “Here?” she asked innocently, applying the slightest bit more pressure, but still not where Shauna needed.
A frustrated, desperate sound escaped Shauna. She was on fire. “Yes. God, yes, Jackie. Please.”
The plea seemed to dissolve the last of Jackie’s teasing
The silence in the bathroom was a living thing, thick with the scent of sex and sweat and shattered boundaries. Shauna’s body still hummed with the aftershocks, a deep, trembling weakness in her limbs. But the blank horror was receding, burned away by a new, sharper feeling rising from the ashes of her climax.
It was anger. Not the hot, defiant anger from before, but something colder. More calculated.
Jackie’s hand was a warm, possessive brand on her hip. Her breath tickled Shauna’s ear, uneven. She’d won. She’d proven her point, extracted her surrender, and now she was waiting for the aftermath—for Shauna to crumble, to cry, to cling to her in confused gratitude.
Shauna pushed away from the wall, her movements deliberate. She ignored the way her jeans and underwear were pooled around her ankles, ignored the shocking vulnerability of her bare skin in the harsh light. She stepped out of them, kicking the denim aside with a quiet finality. The cool tile was a shock under her bare feet.
“Shauna?” Jackie’s voice was tentative, a crack in her composure.
Shauna didn’t answer. She turned, finally looking at Jackie. Her best friend’s perfect makeup was smudged, her lips swollen from kissing. Her dress was rumpled. She looked… unraveled. And she was still holding onto the idea that she was in control. That she was driving.
A slow, dangerous smile touched Shauna’s lips. It felt foreign on her face. “You told me,” she echoed, her voice low and surprisingly steady. “You told me so.”
She took a step forward. Jackie, instinctively, took a half-step back, her spine meeting the edge of the porcelain sink. The surprise in her eyes was a drug. Shauna had never seen Jackie retreat from her. Not once in thirteen years.
“What are you doing?” Jackie asked, trying to muster her commanding tone. It came out as a question, not a demand.
“Taking a detour,” Shauna said softly. She placed her hands on the sink on either side of Jackie’s hips, caging her in just as Jackie had done to her minutes before. The power shift was dizzying. “You said I could have one. Remember?”
Jackie’s chin lifted, a flicker of her old defiance returning. “I said I was driving.”
“You’ve been driving my whole life, Jax,” Shauna whispered, leaning in until their noses almost touched. She could see the rapid pulse in Jackie’s throat. “Maybe it’s my turn to navigate.”
Before Jackie could formulate a retort, Shauna kissed her.
It wasn’t the desperate, claiming kiss Jackie had initiated. It wasn’t the soft, exploratory one that followed. This was something else entirely. It was hungry, yes, but it was a curious hunger. Shauna took her time, mapping the seam of Jackie’s lips with her tongue, tasting the cherry gloss and the faint, metallic hint of her own arousal on Jackie’s skin. She kissed her slowly, deeply, with a focus that was almost clinical. She was learning her. Finally learning her.
Jackie made a small, startled sound, then melted into it. Her hands came up to clutch at Shauna’s bare shoulders, her fingers digging in. She was trying to pull her closer, to regain the upper hand through passion. But Shauna held back, controlling the pace, the pressure. She broke the kiss, trailing her mouth along Jackie’s jaw, down the elegant column of her throat. She felt the frantic beat of Jackie’s heart against her lips.
“You’ve thought about this,” Shauna murmured against her skin, echoing Jackie’s earlier confession. “After practice. When I was pink from the shower.” She nipped lightly at the tendon in Jackie’s neck, and Jackie gasped, her head falling back against the mirror. “What else did you think about, Jackie?”
“I…” Jackie’s voice was breathy. “I don’t know.”
“Liar.” Shauna’s hands left the sink. They slid up Jackie’s sides, over the silky fabric of her dress, coming to rest just beneath the swell of her breasts. She could feel Jackie’s heart hammering against her palms. “You’re a planner. You think about everything. Did you think about my hands on you? Like this?”
She squeezed gently, and Jackie’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her. It was a sound Shauna had never heard before—unpracticed, utterly real. It went straight to her core, igniting a fierce, possessive heat of her own.
“Tell me,” Shauna insisted, her thumbs brushing over the peaks of Jackie’s breasts through the dress. They were already hard.
“Yes,” Jackie breathed, the admission torn from her. “God, yes, Shauna.”
Emboldened, Shauna’s hands moved to the thin straps of Jackie’s dress. She pushed them down over her shoulders, following the path with her mouth, kissing the newly exposed skin. The dress slid down, catching at Jackie’s elbows, baring her to the waist. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course she wasn’t. Jackie Taylor didn’t need one with dresses like this.
Shauna leaned back, her breath catching. Jackie was… breathtaking. Her breasts were full and pale in the fluorescent light, her nipples a dusky pink, already pebbled tight. Shauna had seen her in bikinis, in changing rooms, but this was different. This was offered. This was hers to explore.
“You’re staring,” Jackie whispered, a blush spreading across her chest. But she didn’t try to cover herself. Her eyes were dark, challenging.
“You stared first,” Shauna said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Then she bent her head and took one taut peak into her mouth.
Jackie cried out, her hands flying to Shauna’s hair, not to pull her away, but to hold her there. Shauna swirled her tongue, learning the texture, the weight, the perfect, responsive way Jackie’s body arched into her. She was methodical, attentive, lavishing equal attention on each breast until Jackie was panting, her hips shifting restlessly against the sink cabinet.
“Shauna… please…” Jackie begged, and the sound of that word in her voice, the queen of their universe, brought a surge of raw power through Shauna.
“Please what?” Shauna lifted her head, her lips glistening. “You have to say it, Jax. You made the rules.”
The frustration on Jackie’s face was beautiful. She was squirming, her composure fracturing. “Touch me. Elsewhere.”
“Where?” Shauna pressed, her hands sliding down Jackie’s sides, over the flare of her hips, coming to rest on the bunched fabric of her dress at her thighs. “Here?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She hooked her fingers into the hem of the dress and pushed it up, up, over Jackie’s hips, revealing matching lace panties, a pale lavender that was so Jackie it made Shauna’s chest ache. The dress was now a rumpled circle around Jackie’s waist, trapping her arms slightly.
Shauna knelt.
The tile was cold and hard under her knees. The view from here was even more devastating. Jackie, half-dressed, disheveled, her perfect hair a mess, looking down at her with wide, shocked eyes.
“What are you…” Jackie’s question died in her throat as Shauna placed her hands on Jackie’s thighs, spreading them just enough to settle between them. She leaned forward, nuzzling the soft skin of Jackie’s inner thigh through the lace. She inhaled her scent—perfume, sweat, and something muskier, something uniquely Jackie. It was intoxicating.
“I’m navigating,” Shauna murmured, her voice vibrating against Jackie’s skin. She pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over the damp center of the lace. Jackie jerked, a sharp, high sound escaping her.
“You don’t have to—” Jackie started, but it was a weak protest, undercut by the way her thighs trembled under Shauna’s hands.
“I know I don’t have to,” Shauna interrupted, looking up. Her gaze locked with Jackie’s. “I want to. I’ve wanted to for… I don’t even know how long.” The confession, here on her knees, felt more true than anything she’d ever said. “I want to know what you taste like. I want to feel you come apart on my tongue. I want to know if I’m better than Jeff.”
The name hung in the air, a stark reminder of the other world outside the door. Jackie flinched, but her eyes didn’t leave Shauna’s. The jealousy, the possessiveness was still there, but it was mirrored now. It was shared.
“There’s no comparison,” Jackie whispered, her voice raw.
Shauna didn’t smile. She simply held her gaze for a second longer, then turned her attention back to the lavender lace. She used her teeth to gently tug the fabric aside, baring her. Jackie was slick, swollen, beautiful. Shauna’s mouth watered.
She didn’t dive in. She was too nervous, too aware of the monumental line she was crossing. Instead, she started with feather-light kisses on the inside of her thighs, working her way slowly, agonizingly inward. She traced the outer lips with the tip of her tongue, learning her geography. Jackie was making a continuous, low sound in her throat, her fingers tangling painfully tight in Shauna’s hair.
When Shauna finally flicked her tongue over Jackie’s clit, the reaction was instantaneous. Jackie’s whole body bowed off the sink, a strangled cry echoing in the small room. Her hips bucked forward, seeking more.
Shauna gave it to her. She settled into a rhythm, slow and deliberate at first, then faster as she learned what made Jackie’s legs shake, what made her breath catch in a sob. She licked and sucked, exploring with a hungry curiosity that was entirely her own. This wasn’t Jackie’s performative dominance. This was Shauna’s quiet, intense study. Her worship.
Jackie was coming undone above her. The cool, composed facade was gone, shattered into a thousand pieces. She was gasping, pleading, a stream of broken, half-formed words. “Shauna… right there… fuck… don’t stop… please, please…”
It was the most powerful thing Shauna had ever felt. To have this effect on Jackie Taylor, the girl who had everything, who controlled everything. To be the one reducing her to a trembling, begging mess. The possessiveness she felt was a dark, thrilling tide. Mine. You’re mine like this.
She could feel Jackie tensing, her thighs clamping around Shauna’s head, her cries becoming higher, more desperate. Shauna doubled her efforts, focusing all her attention on that one, perfect point, her hands gripping Jackie’s hips to hold her steady.
Jackie’s climax hit her silently at first—a full-body tensing, a gasp that seemed to steal all the air
ackie’s climax hit her silently at first—a full-body tensing, a gasp that seemed to steal all the air from the room. Then it broke over her in a series of shuddering, helpless waves, her cries muffled as she bit down on her own knuckle. Her legs, which had been clamped around Shauna’s head, went slack, trembling violently. Shauna stayed with her, gentling her touch until the last tremor subsided, until the only sounds were their ragged, shared breaths and the distant, muffled thump of bass from the party.
Slowly, Shauna sat back on her convers. She looked up.
Jackie was slumped against the sink cabinet, her dress a rumpled mess around her waist, her chest flushed and heaving. Her eyes were closed, her face a mask of something Shauna had never seen before: utter, defenseless ruin. The perfect golden girl was gone. In her place was a raw, exposed nerve, trembling in the aftermath.
A strange, protective tenderness surged in Shauna’s chest, momentarily eclipsing the cold anger and the fierce pride. She rose to her feet, her own knees protesting from the hard tile. She reached out, her hands hovering for a second before she gently grasped Jackie’s bare shoulders.
“Hey,” Shauna whispered, her voice hoarse.
Jackie’s eyes fluttered open. They were glassy, unfocused, swimming with a sheen of tears she was visibly, desperately trying to blink back. She looked at Shauna as if she didn’t recognize her for a moment. Then the reality of her position—half-naked, undone, utterly vulnerable—seemed to crash into her. A violent shudder wracked her frame, and she made a small, choked sound.
“Whoa, easy,” Shauna murmured. She pulled Jackie forward, away from the hard edge of the sink. Jackie came without resistance, her body boneless and pliant. She collapsed into Shauna’s arms, her face burying itself in the crook of Shauna’s neck. Shauna held her, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, the other splayed against the bare skin of her back. She could feel the frantic, rabbit-quick beat of Jackie’s heart against her own chest.
Jackie was trembling. Not the slight shiver of cold, but a deep, systemic quaking that seemed to come from her very core. And then Shauna felt it—the hot, silent spill of tears against her skin. Jackie wasn’t sobbing; she was just… leaking. As if the intensity of what had just happened had broken a seal somewhere inside her, and she had no way to stop it.
“I’m not crying,” Jackie mumbled into her neck, the words thick and wet and utterly unconvincing. Her fists clenched in the fabric of Shauna’s shirt. “I’m just… overwhelmed. It’s the… the adrenaline drop. Or something.”
“I know,” Shauna said softly, her lips brushing against Jackie’s temple. She didn’t point out the obvious. She just held her tighter, rocking her slightly, as if she were the one who needed comforting. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Ten minutes ago, Jackie had been a conquering queen. Now, she was a trembling mess in Shauna’s arms, and Shauna was the one providing the anchor. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Jackie hissed, but there was no heat in it, only a bewildered frustration. She pulled back just enough to look at Shauna, her blue eyes red-rimmed and blazing with a turmoil that mirrored the chaos inside Shauna. Tears tracked through her smudged mascara, leaving dark trails. “None of this is okay. What… what did we just do, Shauna?”
The question hung between them, heavy and terrifying. It was the question Shauna had been avoiding, the one that made the floor feel unsteady beneath her bare feet. She’d been so caught in the act, in the reversal of power, in the dizzying thrill of exploration, that she hadn’t let herself think about the after. About what it meant for their thirteen years of friendship, for Jackie’s relationship with Jeff, for the very foundation of who they were to each other.
“I don’t know,” Shauna answered honestly. Her own voice sounded small.
“You don’t know?” Jackie’s laugh was a brittle, broken thing. She wiped angrily at her face with the back of her hand, smearing the makeup further. “You just… you just did that to me, and you don’t know?”
A flicker of the old defensiveness sparked in Shauna’s gut. “I did that to you? You’re the one who dragged me in here! You’re the one who started this whole… thing!” She gestured vaguely between them, at the wreckage of the bathroom, at their state of undress.
“I started it, but you…” Jackie trailed off, her gaze dropping to Shauna’s mouth, then darting away as if burned. “You took over. You… you wrecked me, Shipman.”
There was no accusation in the words. Only awe. And fear. Shauna saw it now, clear as day. Jackie Taylor was afraid. Of her. Of what had just happened. Of the loss of control. It was a heady, terrifying realization.
“You wanted me to,” Shauna said, but it was a weak argument. They had both wanted things they hadn’t dared name.
“I didn’t want this!” Jackie cried, her voice cracking. She gestured at her own tear-streaked face, at her emotional disarray. “I wanted to… to prove a point! To show you that… that I was what you wanted! Not that… that girl.” Melissa’s name was a ghost in the room, forgotten in the nuclear fallout of their own actions.
“You proved it,” Shauna said flatly. The admission cost her something, but it was the truth. The ghost of Melissa, with her choppy hair and nose ring, was a pale, insubstantial shadow compared to the hurricane that was Jackie. “Happy?”
“No!” Jackie almost shouted, then flinched, her eyes darting to the bathroom door as if expecting a crowd to burst in. She lowered her voice to a frantic whisper. “No, I’m not happy! I’m confused, and I’m scared, and I feel like I’m going to be sick, and my boyfriend is probably wondering where I am, and my best friend just…” She swallowed hard, looking at Shauna with a devastating helplessness. “What does this make us?”
The million-dollar question. Shauna had no answer. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the drip of a faucet and the relentless bass from beyond the door. The real world was waiting, impatient and oblivious.
Slowly, practically, Shauna disentangled herself from Jackie. The loss of contact felt like stepping into a cold wind. She bent down, picking up her discarded jeans and underwear. She didn’t put them on, just held them in front of herself like a shield. “We should… we should get cleaned up. People will notice.”
Jackie stared at her, as if the mundane concern was absurd. Then, with a jerky nod, she turned to the sink. She avoided her own reflection in the fogged mirror, instead cupping her hands under the cold tap and splashing water on her face. She scrubbed at the mascara stains, her movements rough, almost punishing. Shauna watched the tense line of her bare back, the way her shoulder blades moved like trapped birds.
Shauna used the moment to quickly step into her underwear and pull her jeans up, wincing at the feel of denim on her sensitive skin. She fastened them, her fingers clumsy. She found her simple top on the floor and pulled it over her head. Dressed, she felt only marginally less exposed.
Jackie was patting her face dry with a wad of scratchy paper towels. She’d managed to remove most of the smeared makeup, but her eyes were still puffy, her lips swollen. She looked young. And lost. She glanced at her reflection and made a sound of disgust. “I look like hell.”
“You look fine,” Shauna said automatically. The old script. The best friend reassurance.
Jackie met her eyes in the mirror. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t just… go back to normal. We can’t.”
“What do you want me to do, Jackie?” Shauna asked, exhaustion seeping into her voice. The adrenaline was gone, leaving her hollow and shaky. “Do you want to talk about our feelings? Here? Now?”
“No! God, no.” Jackie turned away from the mirror, leaning her hips against the sink. She crossed her arms over her bare chest, a defensive gesture. Her dress was still bunched around her waist. She made no move to fix it. “I just… I need to know what you’re thinking.”
Shauna leaned against the wall, the tile cool through her shirt. She let out a long, slow breath. What was she thinking? It was a jumble of sensations—the taste of Jackie on her tongue, the sound of her broken pleas, the fierce possessiveness, the crushing tenderness, the cold dread of consequence. “I’m thinking that was the most intense thing that has ever happened to me,” she said finally, choosing the safest truth. “I’m thinking I don’t know what happens when we walk out that door. I’m thinking you have a boyfriend who’s going to be looking for you.”
Jackie flinched at the mention of Jeff. Her eyes darted to the floor. “Jeff.”
“Yeah. Jeff.” Shauna pushed off the wall. “You should… put your dress back on.”
As if in a trance, Jackie reached down and pulled the silky fabric up, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. The simple act of restoring her modesty felt like a curtain falling on the scene they’d just played out. She smoothed the skirt, her movements careful, deliberate. She was rebuilding her armor, piece by piece.
“What do we tell people?” Jackie asked, her voice quieter now, more composed. The tears were gone, replaced by a familiar, calculating sharpness. It was a relief and a disappointment.
“We don’t tell them anything,” Shauna said. “We were in the bathroom. Talking. You were upset about me talking to Melissa. We had a fight. We made up.” The lie formed easily, a well-worn path of covering for Jackie’s dramas.
“A fight,” Jackie repeated, testing the word. She nodded slowly. “Right. A fight.” She looked at Shauna, a new, unreadable expression in her eyes. “And we made up?”
Shauna held her gaze. The memory of Jackie’s mouth, her skin, her taste, was a physical ache. “Did we?”
Jackie didn’t answer. She walked to the door and placed her hand on the knob. She paused, her forehead resting against the wood. The party sounds were clearer here—laughter, a shout, a pop song Shauna vaguely recognized. “When we go out there,” Jackie said, her voice barely audible, “it didn’t happen. Okay? It was… a moment. A crazy, stupid moment. We were drunk and jealous and… it didn’t happen.”
The words were a punch to Shauna’s gut. A denial. An erasure. Part of her wanted to scream, to grab Jackie and shake her and say, It did happen! It happened and it changed everything! But the larger, more practical part of her, the part that had spent a lifetime navigating Jackie’s world, knew she was right. What other choice was there?
“Okay,” Shauna heard herself say. The word tasted like ash.
Jackie turned the knob and pulled the door open. The noise and light from the hallway flooded in, harsh and overwhelming. She stepped out without looking back, her shoulders squared, her head held high. She was Jackie Taylor again, golden and untouchable, leaving the wreckage of the bathroom—and of Shauna—behind.
Shauna stood alone in the humid, scent-filled room for another ten seconds, gathering the shattered pieces of herself. She took one last look at the sink, the mirror, the tile floor where she’d knelt. Then she followed, closing the door softly on the most world-altering twenty minutes of her life.
The party hit her like a wall. The music was louder, the air thicker with smoke and cheap beer. She saw Jackie immediately, already halfway across the living room, making a beeline for Jeff, who was by the keg talking to some guys from the team. Jackie slid her arms around Jeff’s waist from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. He turned, smiling, and kissed her forehead. He said something, and Jackie laughed, the sound bright and carefree, floating above the din.
It was a perfect performance.
Shauna felt invisible. She stood frozen in the hallway entrance, watching the scene. The girl who had just come apart in her arms was now laughing in her boyfriend’s embrace. The disconnect was so profound it made her feel dizzy, nauseous.
“Hey, you okay?”
Shauna jumped. It was Randy, one of Jeff’s less-offensive friends, holding two red plastic cups. He shoved one toward her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Here, this’ll help.”
She took the cup automatically, her fingers numb. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Hey, have you seen Jackie? Jeff’s been looking for her.”
Shauna’s eyes flicked back to the couple. Jackie was now whispering something in Jeff’s ear, making him grin. “Yeah,” Shauna said, her voice strangely calm. “She’s right over there.”
The party thrummed on, a living entity of sweat, bass, and forced merriment. Shauna held the red plastic cup Randy had given her, the beer inside warm and tasteless. She stood like a statue in the hallway, her eyes glued to the scene across the room. Jackie was a sunbeam, her golden laughter cutting through the smoky haze as she tilted her head back, letting Jeff nuzzle her neck. He whispered something, and she swatted his chest playfully, the picture of effortless, hetero-normative bliss.
It was a masterclass in compartmentalization. Shauna felt the ghost of Jackie’s taste on her tongue, the memory of her trembling weight in her arms. The contrast was so violent it felt like psychological whiplash. She took a long, grim swallow of the warm beer, welcoming the slight burn.
“You’re just gonna stand there all night, Shipman?” Randy nudged her shoulder, his grin easy. “You missed the keg stand. Jeff totally beat his record.”
“Thrilling,” Shauna mumbled, her voice flat. She didn’t look at him.
Randy’s smile faltered. “You and Jackie have a blowout or something? She came out of the bathroom looking like she’d been through a war. And you look… I dunno. Haunted.”
Shauna’s grip tightened on the cup. “We talked. It’s fine.”
“Right.” Randy didn’t sound convinced, but he was too socially lazy to press. “Well, Melissa’s looking for you. She’s over by the stereo.”
Shauna’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“The girl with the nose ring? From your lit class? She asked if I’d seen you.” Randy shrugged. “Seemed nice.”
A cold, sharp feeling pierced through the numbness. Melissa. The catalyst. The girl who, just an hour ago, had represented a thrilling, independent possibility. Now, she felt like a character from a different, simpler story. Shauna’s gaze flicked to the stereo. She saw the blonde hair, the confident lean against the wall as Melissa scrolled through a phone. A part of Shauna—the part that existed before the bathroom—wanted to go over there. To prove, to herself if no one else, that she could still want something that wasn’t Jackie Taylor.
But her feet were rooted to the floor. Her whole body felt heavy, weighed down by the secret that was now a physical presence between her shoulder blades.
“Thanks,” she said to Randy, not moving.
He wandered off, and Shauna finally forced herself to turn away from the spectacle of Jackie and Jeff. She wove through the crowd, not toward Melissa, but toward the kitchen. She needed water. She needed a moment where the air wasn’t thick with the smell of spilled beer and Jackie’s perfume.
The kitchen was marginally quieter, though a group was playing a loud drinking game at the table. Shauna filled a glass from the tap and drank it in one go, then refilled it. She leaned against the counter, closing her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. The sounds of the party faded into a dull roar.
“There you are.”
Shauna’s eyes flew open. Jackie stood in the kitchen doorway, her silhouette backlit by the hallway light. She’d fixed her hair, reapplied her lip gloss. The tear-streaks were gone. But her eyes, even from across the room, held a frantic, hunted look that her perfect smile couldn’t mask.
“Jeff’s getting another round,” Jackie said, her voice pitched too high, too bright for the space between them. She stepped into the kitchen, glancing at the group at the table before moving closer to Shauna. The proximity was electric and agonizing. Shauna could smell her own shampoo on Jackie’s skin, beneath the cherry scent.
“What do you want, Jackie?” Shauna kept her voice low, drained.
“I just… wanted to check on you.” Jackie’s fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress. A nervous habit Shauna hadn’t seen in years. “You disappeared.”
“I’m right here.” Shauna took another sip of water, her eyes hard. “You’re the one who disappeared the second you walked out that door.”
Jackie flinched as if struck. The bright facade cracked, just for a second. “We had a deal, Shauna. It didn’t happen.”
“It happened,” Shauna hissed, leaning in. “You can stand there with your perfect boyfriend and your perfect laugh all you want. It. Happened.”
The group at the table roared with laughter, drowning out Jackie’s sharp intake of breath. She looked at Shauna, her blue eyes wide and pleading. “Not here. Please.”
“Then where, Jackie?” Shauna’s frustration boiled over, a quiet, desperate fury. “You drag me into a bathroom and blow up my entire life, and then you want to just… go back to the party? What do you want from me?”
Jackie opened her mouth, then closed it. Her composure was crumbling, piece by fragile piece. She looked over her shoulder, toward the living room, then back at Shauna. A decision flickered in her eyes, desperate and unhinged. “The basement. Jeff’s dad’s old office. It’s unlocked. Meet me there. Five minutes.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and melted back into the crowd, leaving Shauna alone with her pounding heart and the echoing question.
Shauna stood frozen for a full minute, the cold glass sweating in her hand. Every rational cell in her body screamed to leave. To walk out the front door, get in her car, and drive away from this house, this party, from Jackie Taylor and the atom bomb she’d dropped on their friendship. To find Melissa and have a normal, uncomplicated conversation about books.
But her feet, traitorous and rooted in thirteen years of history, carried her to the basement door tucked under the staircase. She turned the knob and slipped into the dark.
The stairs were narrow, carpeted in an old, musty berber. The sounds of the party became muffled, then distant. At the bottom, a sliver of light spilled from a half-open door. Shauna pushed it open.
It was a small, wood-paneled room dominated by a large desk and a leather swivel chair. A banker’s lamp cast a pool of warm, greenish light over stacks of papers and a dormant computer. It smelled of dust and old cigar smoke, a stark, adult contrast to the teenage chaos upstairs.
Jackie was standing by the desk, her back to the door, hugging herself. She turned as Shauna entered, and the look on her face stole the air from Shauna’s lungs. All the performance was gone. The girl who stood there was stripped raw, her eyes red-rimmed again, her lip trembling.
Shauna closed the door softly, the click of the latch final. The muffled thump of bass was the only connection to the world above.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other across the dim room. The space felt charged, but not with the hungry, possessive energy of the bathroom. This was heavier. Sadder.
“You asked what I want,” Jackie whispered, her voice breaking on the first word. “I don’t know what I want, Shauna. That’s the problem.”
Shauna leaned against the door, needing its solid support. “You seemed to know exactly what you wanted in the bathroom.”
“That wasn’t want!” Jackie cried, the words bursting out of her. “That was… panic! It was jealousy so bad I couldn’t see straight! I saw you with her, laughing, and it felt like you were taking something that was mine.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as if she might fly apart. “I just wanted to mark my territory. Like a fucking dog. That’s all it was supposed to be.”
The admission was so ugly, so brutally honest, it left Shauna speechless.
“But then you…” Jackie’s gaze dropped to the floor. “You kissed me back. And you looked at me like you… like you saw me. And then you… you took over. And it wasn’t about marking territory anymore. It was about you. Just you.”
She looked up, tears spilling over, tracing fresh paths through her makeup. “And now I’m down here, and my boyfriend is upstairs, and I feel nothing for him, Shauna. Nothing. I haven’t for… I don’t even know how long. I just go through the motions because it’s what you do. It’s what’s expected. But with you…” She shook her head, a sob catching in her throat. “With you, I felt everything. All at once. And it terrified me.”
Shauna pushed off the door, crossing the room slowly. She stopped a few feet away, not touching her. “You’re terrified? You dragged me in there. You started this.”
“I know!” Jackie wailed, her hands coming up to cover her face. “I’m a mess! I’m a selfish, horrible, confused mess! And I’m so sorry.” The last word was a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry I did that to you. I’m sorry I used you to prove a point to myself. I’m sorry I… I loved it.”
The silence that followed was absolute, save for Jackie’s ragged breathing. Shauna’s own heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. “Loved what?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“All of it,” Jackie confessed, dropping her hands. Her face was a tragedy of smudged makeup and utter despair. “I loved your hands on me. I loved your mouth. I loved the way you looked at me when I was coming apart. I’ve never… Jeff has never made me feel like that. No one has ever made me feel like that. It was like you reached inside my chest and turned on a light I didn’t even know was off.”
She took a shuddering step forward, closing the distance between them. Her eyes searched Shauna’s face, desperate and imploring. “What does that make me, Shauna? What does that make us? Because I look at you, and I don’t see my best friend anymore. I see the person who just showed me that my entire life is a carefully constructed lie. And I’m so… I’m so done. I’m done pretending. I’m done being scared.”
Tears were streaming down Shauna’s own face now, hot and silent. The anger was gone, dissolved in the acid rain of Jackie’s confession. All that was left was a vast, aching empathy, and beneath it, the stubborn, undeniable glow of that same forbidden want.
“Jackie…” Shauna started, but she had no words.
“I think I love you,” Jackie blurted out, the words tumbling into the space between them like dropped china. She looked shocked she’d said them, but she didn’t take them back. “I mean, I do love you. You’re my best friend. But I think I’m in love with you. And I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to be that.” Her voice cracked. “I’m so confused. And I’m so scared of losing you.”
It was the final surrender. The queen had abdicated her throne, laying her crown and her fears at Shauna’s feet. The power dynamic they’d played with in the bathroom was irrelevant now. This was something deeper, more terrifying, and more real.
Shauna reached out then. Not with passion, but with tenderness. She cupped Jackie’s wet cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear. Jackie leaned into the touch, her eyes closing, a fresh sob escaping her.
“You’re not going to lose me,” Shauna said, the certainty in her own voice surprising her. It was the one truth she could grasp in the quicksand. “You could never lose me, Jax. Even when I hate you sometimes, I’m yours.” The old, painful truth of their codependency had never sounded so much like a vow.