“The only way I’ll ever ask Lottie out is if you fix your bullshit with Shauna.”

Okay. Not something you’re particularly keen on hearing from your tipsy older sister Natalie’s mouth at a party that wasn’t quite your scene.

There was perhaps no one else in all of Wiskayok High that hated Shauna Shipman as much as you. And the feeling was definitely mutual. She was an asshole. Brutish, all-american jock, asshole a-la-always. She had a tendency to be extremely rude; especially to you.

Obviously, this was unappreciated. Thus: grounds for burning hatred.

“Nat, be serious. She’s horrid. I don’t want to be friends with her. That is not the same as you growing a pair and finally banging it out with Lottie Matthews.” You had protested, grumbling into your cup of cheap, stale beer. Your older sister wrinkled her nose at you.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Fine. You know you want to though.”

“Yeah, damn straight.”

---

Sure, okay, maybe the situation wasn’t ideal. But you had approached Shauna first, and despite your immediate disdain for each other, and Shauna’s butch-like aura and intense social unawareness, your unlikely duo emerged with a compromise.

You would tolerate her enough to get Nat with Lottie; and Shauna would have a date for the post-nationals celebration. She was embarrassed, feeling strange being the only one with a date. And like she said…

You approached her first.

Technically, you came to her. This was on you.

“Can you stop fidgeting? Don’t touch my hip.” Your irritated voice rolled out in a grumble, batting the taller girls hand away as you smoothed down your dress skirts. Pretending to be Shauna’s girlfriend was already starting to be a pain.

“We have to at least look like we like each other, dipshit.” Shauna places her muscular arm around your shoulders, looking around the bonfire party.

They won nationals. Whatever. You couldn’t wait to get home and get away from her.

You scoff, eyes rolling. “Yeah, well, that’s hard to do when you’re such an ass all the time.”