“And maybe we can do that by calling a truce? No more toxic us, no more games, and maybe one day we can be friends again?”
“I can shake on that,” I say, offering Jamison my hand.
He grins and meets my palm with his. “To something different,” he says.
We shake, and instantly I feel lighter.
The rest of my Aldi shift goes off without interruption, and before I know it, it’s after nine p.m. and I’m home, in my onesie, preparing for a low-key, drama-free New Year’s Eve.
“Lyric, baby. Order me extra wings when you get the pizza. I been craving some.”
“Yes, Grammy,” I yell, adding extra wings and ranch to my Grubhub cart. We don’t do delivery very often, but it’s a self-care night and I got paid early, so I’m not worrying about it tonight. As I place the order, Ki knocks loudly. “The party has arrived!” she yells from the apartment hallway.
I fling open the door. Ki has taken our “comfy clothes only” dress code very seriously, wearing a bonnet, two star-shaped pimple patches on her face, and some kind of fluffy blanket-hoodie thrown over leggings.
“Did you drive here like this?” I laugh.
“I did, and I don’t care.”
She brushes past me, dropping her overnight bag, some snacks, and a bottle of root beer in the entryway, before heading to the back bedroom to say hello to Grammy.
“Pizza and wings will be here in twenty!” I yell, unpacking the goodies. “Can you help Grammy decide which movie she wants to watch with us, Ki? We’ll watch that one first.”
“On it!” Ki says.
“I want to watch the one with the sexy rain dance,” I hear Grammy say.
“That’sStep Up 2, Grammy. We only have the first movie,” I yell.
“Well, that’ll work, I guess.”
When the pizza and wings arrive, we set up in Grammy’s room with TV trays and hit play onStep Up. We laugh and sing along while we eat, and when the movie ends I help Grammy to the toilet.
As I’m waiting outside the cracked door for Grammy to finish, I hear Ki scream from the bedroom.
“Holy shit, Lyric, get in here right now. You need to see this.”
“What?” I ask, rushing to her side.
She holds up her phone with the BeautyStarz app open on it—and Juniper’s face on the screen.
“Hey! We said no phones and no socials today,” I protest.
“I know, I know. I was just taking a quick peek—sorry, I’m addicted. But, really, you need to see this,” she says, forcing her phone into my hands.
“What am I looking at?” I say, my eyes trying to adjust to what’s on the screen.
“Juniper did a live early this morning, but it doesn’t look like she tagged you. Jamison just texted me about it, the recording’s up still. And, well, you’re going to want to watch this.”
“Excuse me,” Grammy calls from down the hall. “Can I get some assistance?”
Kiana jumps up. “I can help her. You, sit and watch.”
I fall into a spot on Grammy’s bed and hit play on the recorded live. Juniper stands front and center, in what looks like her room. A fresh haircut and a slightly terrified but cute look on her face. My heart starts galloping through my chest—what the hell is she doing?
Uh, hey, everyone out there, Juniper begins.
My name is Juniper, and you may know me through @lovelylyric’s page, where I’ve been featured heavily over the last few weeks. Thanks for all your support, but, uh, I need to come clean about something and I hope you’ll be understanding. So, um, I’m not actually Lyric’s girlfriend. Now, I know what you’re thinking. How can that be? There’s evidence. Well, uh, don’t believe everything you see on social media, right? It’s all an illusion—oooh!
