Shauna’s legs are tangled with yours under the blanket, the flicker of some forgettable movie lighting up her face in soft pinks and greens. Neither of you are really watching. She’s lying on her side, propped up on one elbow now, eyes fixed on you like you might disappear if she blinked too long.

Her breath smells like cherry lip balm and Sprite. Her hair’s still a little damp from the shower, curling around her face in loose strands.

She doesn’t move. She just looks at you.

“Do you think it’s weird?” she asks suddenly, so quiet it barely makes a sound. “How we always end up like this?”

You blink. “Like what?”

She shrugs, and the movement bumps her knee against yours. “I dunno. Just…this. Us.”

It should feel casual. It should. But Shauna’s looking at you like you’re something delicate she’s afraid to break, and her hand is so, so close to yours. Like if you moved just a little, your fingers would brush.

Her fingers twitch where they rest between you. You wonder if she’s hoping you’ll reach first.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” you say.

She exhales, soft and shaky, like maybe she’d been waiting to hear that. Then she smiles, barely. It’s all lips and nerves. “Okay. Good.”

A beat.

Then, quieter: “Do you ever think about kissing me?”

You freeze.

Shauna’s eyes flick down to your mouth and then back up again. She’s blushing. Like, full-on red-faced, eyes darting everywhere except yours now.

“Not that—I mean. You probably don’t. That was stupid. Forget I said anything.”

But her hand is still there, right next to yours. You just reach out, your pinky brushing against hers.

She looks down at your hands. Her breath catches.

And she doesn’t move away.