the 1 | chaennie

21. The Moment I Knew

It was a long day of dazzling camera flashes, tense posing while trying to make it look effortless, constant toying with her new hair and missing Jennie. More than once, Rosie found herself drifting away into some stray thought about her girlfriend as she stared blankly at the camera lenses, resisting the urge to blink as her heart was seized with a painful ache. She hadn't slept much after saying goodbye to Jennie, and she was oddly glad that they'd be photoshopping her face anyway, smoothing out her flaws and the dark circles under her eyes. It left her free to wallow, knowing that as long as she showed up, everyone else would do the work for her.

Still, it was a long day. She still enjoyed herself though, picking her favourite pieces of clothing, getting to pick the music that was blasted on set and basking in the admiration of the people that crowded around her. Photoshoots were always fun; it was akin to a red carpet or an interview, being made up to be someone new, someone different.

Rosie would've been lying if she said it wasn't a relief when she flew back home to Miami though. Hyeri and Irene accompanied her and opened a bottle of wine while Rosie excused herself to the bathroom. Taking her time in the shower, she let her body relax and scrubbed the makeup from her face, feeling refreshed and a little less irritable as she changed into comfy clothes and groaned at her hair, which has started to frizz and curl in the steamy bathroom, leaving her fringe ruffled.

Anxiously patting her hair down, she made her way towards the kitchen and accepted a glass of Riesling, perching on a barstool and leaning on the marble counters as she listened to Irene and Hyeri's conversation. From what she could gather, it was about her birthday in two weeks. Rosie was turning twenty-two.

"I heard that Orange County has a nice yacht club."

"Orange County?" Irene scoffed, "no, no, that won't do. There's a new club opening in town and they're offering half a million to host the party. Open bar. Fully private. Imagine."

Rosie gave them a sheepish look as she cleared her throat. "I was just going to have something small here, actually. Jennie's flying in, and so is Talia and my mum. They're all going to be knackered-"

"Well you can't plan your party for other people, Rosie," Hyeri disapprovingly replied.

Taking a sip of wine, Rosie rolled the floral and peachy taste around her mouth as she shrugged half-heartedly. Setting the glass down on the counter with a small chime against the marble, she gave her publicist an uneven smile.

"I know, I just- I don't want to make a big deal out of it, you know?"

"Oh ... well, that's fine, I suppose. We can decorate the place and hire a few caterers. And I've managed to get Sylvia Weinstock on the phone to bake a cake for you. Isn't that cool?" Irene smiled.

"Who?" Hyeri asked, her brow creasing with confusion.

Waving a hand dismissively, Irene reached for the bottle of wine and topped her glass up, before taking a sip. "She's famous for her cakes. Cost an absolute fortune, but you're only twenty- two once, right?"

Rosie sipped at her wine and traced the marble pattern with her fingertips as she let the conversation and planning wash over her without any input from her. She idly let her mind wander while occasionally murmuring an agreement whenever a question was thrown her way, the next topic already being attacked before she'd even made a vague hum, lost at what was happening. All she really wanted for her birthday was a quiet night. A few friends, people she loved, good music and drink. She'd had big parties before, and she imagined she'd have many more to come, but she was exhausted and wanted to relax on her break.

Eyes fixated on the high kitchen ceilings, Hank running circles around the legs of the barstool, and buttery warmth flooding the kitchen and making it feel cosier than it was with the draft worming its way in from outside while the French doors were buffeted by the wind. Hugging her sweater to herself, Rosie picked at the cheeses and fresh fruits that had appeared in her fridge upon her return, which had in turn been ransacked by her manager and publicist.