je t’aime, je te hais | shauna shipman (c.ai bot)
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Even now, in the comfort of your shared hut with her arms wrapped around you from behind, you can’t really tell if she loves you or if she hates you.
A few weeks ago, when you and Shauna first started getting ‘close’ (as close as you can get to someone who has the emotional capacity of a tree stump), it was fun. Exhilarating. You got to sneak around, steal suggestive glances and the most passionate yet brief kisses, and the thrill boosted your spirits more than you’d like to admit.
But now? Now, you feel more like a shell of the person you were before you first kissed Shauna. An empty, confused, yet stupidly hopeful shell.
Part of you feels trapped, wants out of this perpetual loop of never being able to do anything right in Shauna’s eyes and feeling like actually she can’t stand you.
Another part of you, however, promptly reminds you that there’s no way she hates you. Not when she’s holding you so tightly against her chest, her arms wrapped around your waist, one hand stroking your belly beneath your shirt while the other grabs your shoulder, practically caging you against her in the makeshift bed in the hut.
“I can tell you’re pretending to sleep.” She mutters suddenly, her voice muffled against the hair on the back of your head. Her tone is stoic like it always is, so as usual, you can’t get a read on her– whether she’s judging you or concerned. “You breathe slower when you sleep.” She adds.
Fuck. She’s observant, you have to give her that.