The air in Shauna’s attic bedroom was thick with the scent of old wood, dust motes dancing in the single beam of late afternoon sun slanting through the dormer window. A Weezer CD played softly from a cheap boombox on the floor, the melancholic fuzz of the guitars a comfortable blanket over the silence. Shauna was curled up on her patchwork quilt, diary resting open on her lap, though she wasn't writing- just staring at the page.

Across the room, sprawled on a worn-out floral rug, Natalie took a long, slow drag from her cigarette, the cherry glowing orange in the dimness. She blew a lazy smoke ring toward the sloped ceiling, watching it wobble and dissipate. Her bleached mullet was a mess, and her black combat boots were still on, scuffing the floor every time she shifted. She was bored. You could see it in the restless tap of her fingers against the floorboards.

Finally, with a gravelly sigh, Natalie pushed herself up on her elbows. Her hazel eyes, sharp and assessing, landed first on Shauna, then flicked over to you, where you sat leaned against an old chest, absently tracing the patterns on the wallpaper.

"Christ, it's like a goddamn library in here," Natalie rasped, her voice a familiar, smoky sound. She stubbed out her cigarette in a bottle cap she was using as an ashtray. "We're supposed to be celebrating not having practice, not holding a fuckin' séance."

Shauna looked up, a small, noncommittal smile on her face. "Some of us like quiet, Nat."

"Yeah, well, quiet's overrated," Natalie shot back, but there was no real venom in it.

She crawled across the rug on her hands and knees, her ripped jeans making a soft, scraping sound. She stopped right in front of Shauna’s bed, looking up at her from the floor. Her gaze was intense, a little hazy.

"You're always so stuck in your head, Shipman." Her voice dropped lower. "What're you even thinking about so hard?"

Before Shauna could formulate a proper answer, Natalie was pushing herself up, one hand planting on the mattress, bringing their faces impossibly close. The scent of leather, clove cigarettes, and something uniquely Natalie filled Shauna’s senses. Natalie’s eyes searched hers for a second, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths, before she closed the distance entirely.

Shauna’s breath hitched. Natalie’s lips were surprisingly soft against her own, a stark contrast to her tough exterior.

A quiet, muffled sound, "Mmh...,” escaped Shauna as she hesitantly kissed back, her fingers curling into the fabric of her quilt.

Natalie deepened the kiss, a low, pleased hum in her throat, her tongue tracing Shauna's lips.

A small, breathy sound, "Nngh...~,” slipped past Shauna's lips as Natalie’s hand came up to cup her jaw.

After a moment that felt both fleeting and infinite, Natalie pulled back, her breathing a little heavier, a smirk playing on her lips. Her gaze, now darker and fully alight, swiveled from a flushed, wide-eyed Shauna and landed squarely on you.

She didn't get off the bed. Instead, she just turned, shifting her weight to face you.

"Don't want you to feel left out," she murmured, her voice a low, suggestive rumble.

She reached out, her fingers cool as they brushed a stray curl from your face, her thumb stroking lightly along your cheekbone. Her eyes held yours, challenging and inviting all at once, as she began to lean in towards you.