"Good." She unbuttoned my shirt from the top down, slow, and her eyes never left mine. Her hands pushed my shirt open and slid flat against my chest, warm against my cold skin. "You know what I hate about it?"
"Tell me."
"I'm not even mad," Naomi said, and her voice dropped soft. "She looked so happy when she kissed you, and I've never seen her look happy, so I can't be mad, and that's so annoying."
She pulled her own blazer off and dropped it on top of mine. Her academy shirt clung to her like wet paper, and the regulation white had gone clear in the stripes of light from the window. Her bra underneath was plain black cotton, and her shell necklace sat cold against her collarbone with water still beading on the shells.
She looked down at herself and then up at me, and she didn't cross her arms.
"Your turn to look," Naomi said. "I want you to look at me longer than you looked at her."
