Hazel
“So, yeah. Can you come? I definitely need a girlfriend to talk to about all this.”
I pace as I chat with Olivia, my feet begging me to sit down because it’s been one hell of a day.
“Of course. Give me like twenty minutes. Cool?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you soon.” I stop in front of the kitchen counter, leaning on it as I prepare to set my phone down.
“Bye!”
We hang up, and I sigh as I plop my cell on the wireless charger. I’m fucking drained. Jade is an amazing kid, but she’s not low-maintenance, that’s for sure.
The plan is to watch movies and munch on some popcorn. I know that the snacking is going to happen, butbothOlivia and I know we’re not going to be watching whatever movie we end up picking.
We’ll be talking.
I throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave, letting it do its thing, and then go over to my tiny makeshift bar to see what I have left for beverages. I’m down to a single bottle of wine.
I need to go shopping. Ugh, whatever it’ll have to do.
In no time at all, Olivia is at my door, and I let her inside, giving her a massive hug.
“Hey, boo!” She grins, leaning back as she flips her long brown locks off her shoulder in an exaggerated motion.
She’s such a “queen.”
“Hello! Ugh, thank you so much for coming. I have to talk to you about everything.” I step aside so that Olivia can enter, shutting the door behind her and making sure it’s locked.
“I got you, girl. Also…” Olivia walks over to the couch, dropping her bag on the sofa. When she reaches inside, she pulls out a bottle of wine. “…I brought this. In case you were running low.”
“I am!” I hop over happily. “Ha, that’s perfect. I only have one left, and I know what we’re like when we get talking.”
Olivia laughs, her face scrunching up in a silly grin as she tosses her head back. “Well then, it’s good we have all night.”
“Yes, we do, but,” I take the bottle over to the kitchen, padding across my carpet in my socks, and fish around for the corkscrew in my drawers, “I can’t stay uptoolate because I have to be up early in the morning.”
“Early?” Liv cocks a brow, eyeing me like I’m nuts. “Oh, right, you got a babysitting gig? What’s that all about? Since when do you need to pick up odd jobs?”
“Dude, that’s not even the half of it.”
I finally find the corkscrew, which is shaped like a little skeleton man, and I peel off the aluminum cover on the neck of the bottle so I can get to work.
After I’ve poured two glasses of wine and Olivia has thrown on some movie we’ve seen a million times, I head back to the couch and hand her one.
We both aimed for comfort this evening, and I feel totally cozy in my sleep shorts and college sweater, which is so worn that it almost feels like silk.
Liv is rocking some comfy leggings, this wild print all over them that’s abstract and rainbow, and a long black tank top. It looks like she could be equally prepared to go to the gym or bed.
It’s times like these when I’m reminded of how different Liv and I are, even down to how we look. Olivia is all bright colors and patterns with deep tan skin and long brown hair that nearly touches her butt and is filled with highlights.
I’m so not that.
I write thrillers for a living, and I’m too obsessed with true crime. I’ve never dyed my hair, and I have a few tattoos scattered across me where Liv has none.
I’m fairer than she is, shorter, and hitting the gym sounds about as fun as getting my teeth pulled. I still find ways to stay basically in shape—yoga for the win and all that.
One of the funniest things to me is how much older and put-together Liv looks than I do, when she’s the wild child. I still get carded at restaurants when I order a drink, this false perceived innocence I have, but I could tell you all about H.H. Holmes—my favorite serial killer.
