“I don’t recall when we signed a pact that I had to update everyone on my whereabouts or what I’m doing.”
“Orwhoyou’re doing.” Sienna raises a brow at me.
I smirk. “Sienna Falcone, are you slut-shaming me?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. We’re worried because you won’t open up to any of us, and we haven’t seen you go a day without hard liquor or a joint in your hand,” she’s quick to say.
“Both are legal, you know,” I say as I pick up the pack of cigarettes on my kitchen island and use the smiley face lighter I stole two nights ago at Lily and Lorenzo’s party. I light a cigarette and take a moment for myself, closing my eyes as I will this pounding migraine away before I release a breath.
“Romi, please,” Lily says urgently. “Lorenzo and I are leaving tomorrow, and I want to make sure you’re okay before I leave for Italy.”
When I open my eyes, I’m forced to acknowledge my closest friends standing in my kitchen, looking at me like I’m a lost cause.
They look so out of place in my apartment. They’re all so perfectly put together, and much like me, my apartment is a fucking mess. It’s the first time I’ve really looked at it in weeks.
When I look to my right, and up at the spiral staircase to my studio, it’s hard to push down the lump that forms in my throat when I spot the black paint stained on it from where I kicked a can of paint down it the first night the anger consumed me after Lorraine’s death.
Every part of this apartment reminds me of her. The memories we’d made, the friendship we'd shared, and how I’d failed her. For the most part, I’ve been able to block it out, butthere are some rooms, like my studio and her bedroom, that I haven’t been able to revisit since she died.
“I’ve never been better,” I lie, trying to push away the imposing thoughts and memories. “It’s always a bonus when your friends splash cold water on you. Ten out of ten for friend goals.”
“We’re worried about you. You haven’t acted like yourself for weeks now,” Sienna says. “We know Lorraine was important to you. If you could explain to us what happened maybe we can help.”
“We know you didn’t kill her,” Lily is quick to add.
“Despite the gossip and numerous articles that would say otherwise?” I ask with a cruel smile, trying to hide the way it tears me apart. It’s all because her mother made accusations at her funeral that I’d been the reason Lorraine died, and she's been smearing my reputation ever since. And deep down, I agree.
That sense of a noose around my neck reappears, my stomach dropping as it feels like the world is trying to suck me into an abyss. I take another deep inhale of the cigarette, enjoying its burn, and when I blow it back out, I carefully grit, “Don’t say her name around me.”
Don’t drag this pain to the surface when all I’m trying to do is numb it away.
My friends fall quiet. I rest the cigarette on a dirty plate and crouch down to pet Borris. In many ways, he’s been my anchor. The little shit has string-like hair, but I swear he’s the cutest, yet ugliest, dog I’ve ever known. His innocent brown eyes stare back at me lovingly as he waits to be picked up, which I’ve been doing a lot lately except right now since I’m still fucking wet.
So, I settle for scratching him under the chin as I look back up at my friends, sick of them hovering around me like I'm some child.
“So, what, is this like some intervention? Because if so, I’m pretty busy, and I’m pretty sure you should be as well.”
“Busy?” Sienna queries. “You’re not painting or attending any of your scheduled events. You haven’t bought any food, besides dog food, and it doesn’t even look like you’ve brushed your hair in a week.”
I smirk, bringing my hand to my short black hair and scrunching it up. Months ago, it was shoulder-length and a vivid red, but I’ve come to enjoy the recent cut and color; it's at least easy to maintain. I stand up and grab the cigarette from the dirty plate, tapping it before taking another inhale.
It irritates me the way they silently judge me as I bring the cigarette to my lips. Granted, I didn’t usually smoke before this—only if I was really drunk—but I don’t need or want their concern. I’ve never judged their coping mechanisms.
“I think you should be more concerned about your own affairs, wouldn’t you say, Sienna? Where’s your fiancé? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about what’s happening between you and Michael than being up my ass?”
Her mouth snaps shut, and I can see the hurt in her expression. So be it. If it’s the only way people will leave me alone, I’ll jab where I know it's most tender.
“We’ve come to help you clear out Lorraine’s bedroom,” Ara sternly says, her tone most likely in response to how I just spoke to Sienna. My gaze skirts over to her, and I narrow it on the harsher woman of the group. In many ways, it’s why I've respected her so much. Until now.
“Excuse me?”
Lily steps forward then. “We think it might be a good idea if you have someone move in with you, even if temporarily.”
I scoff. Oh, so now they really are trying to find me a babysitter.
“I’m enjoying my own space,” I reply flippantly.
“Your need to have someone in your bed every night says otherwise,” Ara says. “You want time off work? Fine. You want to get shitfaced every day? So be it. You won’t publicly address these rumors? That’s on you. But if someone else is here, at least you might be more accountable in your everyday life and regain some kind of routine. When was the last time you went to your yoga classes?”
