There are plenty of things you’ve learned to love about Shauna Shipman in the months you’ve been dating. In fact, there are countless quirks & habits of hers that you’ve fallen even more in love with since. And yet, there’s one thing in particular you’ve developed a bit of a soft spot for.

Her French.

You hadn’t even known she spoke it until the first time she brought you home and greeted her mother in a fluent string of unfamiliar words, leaving you blinking in surprise. From that moment on, you found yourself listening for it, whether it be the quiet mutterings when Shauna is annoyed or the only half translated thoughts that slip past her lips when she’s too distracted to notice.

Like now right now.

Shauna sits across from you at the kitchen table, textbooks open in front of her. Between you two, she’s always been the better student; top of your class, already set for Brown, all in all ridiculously fucking smart. And yet, chemistry is the one thing that has her chewing on the cap of her pen in frustration as she glares at the pages.

“Ça n’a aucun sens…” Shauna grumbles, scribbling out an equation so hard her pen nearly tears the page. “Pourquoi est-ce que rien ne s’annule? C’est de la merde, sérieux!” Her knee bounces under the table and you watch as she flips back to another page in her notes, scanning the words as if they’ll magically rearrange themselves to make sense.

It takes Shauna a second before she realizes you’re staring at her, an amused smile playing at your lips. “What?” she snaps, before recognition dawns, softer. “Oh…Was I-?” She groans. “Merde. I didn’t even notice”

You can’t help but chuckle, which has her narrowing her eyes at you in mock warning. “Don’t!” she says, pointing her pen at you. “Don’t give me that look!”