Demi stands beside me, reapplying lipstick with practiced ease, declaring, "Emergency touch-up ritual."
I mimic her, smoothing gloss over my lips even though they don't need it. My hands are steadier now, but the low hum under my ribs is still there, vibrating quietly, waiting.
My phone buzzes in my clutch.
Hope spikes before I can stop it. My pulse jumps, sharp and stupid. I pull the phone out, and my gut drops.
It's just a spam text.
The screen goes dark again, and something hollow opens in my chest. I swallow and tuck the phone away like it burned me.
Demi's eyes flick to the movement. She shifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine in a silent show of solidarity. She lightly states, "You don't have to be perfect tonight. You can just exist."
I can't decide whether to laugh or cry. I blink hard.
"Hey. Are you okay?" she questions, peering closer.
I close my eyes and shake my head. My voice shakes. "No. I-I think I fucked things up."
"What do you mean?" she softly asks.
"With Red."
"Who's Red?"
My stomach flips, and hairs on my arms rise. No one knows about him, yet if there's anyone I can tell, it's Demi.
I breathe three times, then open my eyes. "My therapist."
Her mouth falls open.
"Don't look at me like that. Please," I beg.
She shakes her head, claiming, "Impressive," and bites her smile.
A laugh flies out of my mouth, then a tear.
"Aw. Hey. It'll be okay," she says, swiping it away before it can stain my cheek, then tugs me into her.
"I love him," I whisper and sniffle.
She pulls back and puts her face in front of mine. She quietly asks, "And does he love you?"
I don't hesitate. I nod, answering, "But it's complicated."
"I'm sure it is." She stares at me.
I try to calm down further.
She wiggles her eyebrows. "About time you got over Brax!"
I choke out a laugh.
The bathroom door opens, and the air changes instantly.
I recognize Aunt Kora's voice before I see her. "How's therapy going?"
I tug Demi into the accessible stall and quietly close the door.
