You’d heard earfuls from your friends, calling you a loser for still hanging around Shauna—it seemed pitiful really, especially with the rumors going around about you two.

But when she looks at you with those doe eyes and that charming shy smile from the driver's seat and any bitter feelings you have go right out the passenger windows of her old car. You start to think that maybe, just maybe, she thinks of you better, maybe as someone that she couldn’t lose.

And Shauna does…sort of. She’s just scared of what people will think.

God forbid she ever tell you that though. She tells you that “you’re not together,” so now, anytime you two share a secret kiss—those bitter feelings bubble back up into your chest. Why can’t she just be with you?

“It’s no attachment, babe.” She’ll tell you, but it always ends the same way, with her car parked in some secluded spot in the parking lot—making out, whispered words and gentle touches-until you both pull back into your respective seats of her car. Is it really still casual now, Shauna?

What about two weeks into the little fling—when Shauna’s mom invited you on their summer vacation to their Long Beach House? Was it casual then when you spent nights sneaking out together on the beach?

It was hard, being “casual” when your favourite bra had found a permanent residency in her top most dresser drawer, or you spent an hour on the phone helping talk down her best friend Jackie. You know what she tells her friends—that it’s just casual, but you don’t believe her. You hated it.

Yet here you were, back in her passenger seat as the radio played and Shauna was leaned over the middle console, kissing you in a rush as bitter feelings bubbled up like fizz from a shaken soda can in your chest.

You pull away, lips disconnecting like an ended phone call, she chases your mouth with hers. “Shauna— listen, I wanna talk.”

She pulls back, tucking hair behind her ear as her chest heaves. “What?” Shauna mumbles through kiss-stained pink lips, irritated. “What’s your deal?”