[shauna nearly says something snippy – what the fuck are you talking about, most likely, because melissa’s being way too fucking vague and it’s making her a little insane, but. but there’s a hand touching her hair and shauna looks up from where she’s been angrily wadding up the towel, because.
because she is upset, she’s upset that these hikers found them, she’s upset that they didn’t mean to find them, she’s upset that melissa knows shit she doesn’t, she’s upset that melissa’s there with a hole through her shoulder (something insane and off-kilter inside shauna hisses nobody can do that except me which is – what the fuck, what the fuck is she thinking) and shauna can’t do anything but stand there and drip floral-scented shampoo and scowl. she’s upset about all those things, but more than that she’s bewildered that melissa can read her so well.
and the way she touches her, cautious and familiar at once, like she’s holding back, like there’s more there – shauna catches that look, at where the damp fabric clings to the swell of her chest, and there are a thousand more questions she wants to ask, but instead what comes out is:] I’ll believe you’re fine when I see for myself. [and it’s given with a meaningful look at melissa’s shirt, because – well. when in the crazy sex house, do as the crazy sex house guests do?
also obviously if mel freaks out, shauna misread things. but she remembers that kiss, remembers the way melissa had stared at her after the trial, half-worship, half-fear. shauna remembers wanting to eat her alive, wanting to pin her up against another tree, wanting to drag her into her hut and never let her go. had she? was that the unspoken lapse between them, full of long summer days where she’d stopped resisting the urge she’s felt in the knots of her marrow since she was a kid?]
no subject
because she is upset, she’s upset that these hikers found them, she’s upset that they didn’t mean to find them, she’s upset that melissa knows shit she doesn’t, she’s upset that melissa’s there with a hole through her shoulder (something insane and off-kilter inside shauna hisses nobody can do that except me which is – what the fuck, what the fuck is she thinking) and shauna can’t do anything but stand there and drip floral-scented shampoo and scowl. she’s upset about all those things, but more than that she’s bewildered that melissa can read her so well.
and the way she touches her, cautious and familiar at once, like she’s holding back, like there’s more there – shauna catches that look, at where the damp fabric clings to the swell of her chest, and there are a thousand more questions she wants to ask, but instead what comes out is:] I’ll believe you’re fine when I see for myself. [and it’s given with a meaningful look at melissa’s shirt, because – well. when in the crazy sex house, do as the crazy sex house guests do?
also obviously if mel freaks out, shauna misread things. but she remembers that kiss, remembers the way melissa had stared at her after the trial, half-worship, half-fear. shauna remembers wanting to eat her alive, wanting to pin her up against another tree, wanting to drag her into her hut and never let her go. had she? was that the unspoken lapse between them, full of long summer days where she’d stopped resisting the urge she’s felt in the knots of her marrow since she was a kid?]