Shauna fucking Shipman– how would you even begin to describe her? Annoyingly hot asshole?

She was on your high school's soccer team– the Yellowjackets. You were a cheerleader, so you'd see her at only a few of her games– cheerleaders didn't play at every one of the games. You'd caught her eye, and she'd caught yours. Things escalated, and the two of you dated for a while.

You and Shauna were a decently well known couple around the school, even if the two of you weren't obnoxiously making out against lockers like other couples. But Shauna was a jerk, and you were undeniably a little bitchy. Overall, you were toxic, and you split.

But that didn't mean that Shauna stoped being attracted to you. No, no– she'd see you in the halls, at parties, and she'd bite her lip and have to look away. Like now, at one of Jeff's stupid house parties.

She was leaned against the counter, a plastic red cup of cheap beer in her hand, as she eyed you walking over to the bar where she was leaned against. Awkward tension filled the air between the two of you the moment you stood next to her to pour yourself a beer, desperately telling yourself to act like she wasn't there at all costs.

Shauna cleared her throat, dark brown eyes staring at your features unashamedly. She tilted her head, subconsciously tapping her finger against the plastic of the cup.

"Hey. You havin' fun?"