𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢

𝟽. 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 & 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜

You chuckle breathily. Sasha always knows how to make you laugh with the ridiculous things she says. You turn back towards your closet. "You're lucky, you know, to have found Niccolo. Good guys are just about non-existent. You're probably more likely to find some kind of weird-ass extinct animal or something running around before you find a semi-decent guy." You begin to rummage through the hanging clothes in your closet, looking for a pair of pants that match well with your sweater.

"That's not true. You'll find someone too when you're ready," Sasha says with an assuring smile. "One that will make up for all the shit you've had to go through. You won't have to change anything about yourself. They won't care about where you've been. They'll just take you as you are."

Pulling out a pair of brown pants from your closet, you turn toward her. You force a slight smile on your face, "I hope so." But behind your manipulated smile lies doubt.

Sasha sounds confident in what she's saying; you want to believe her, but after being told you're an unloveable person, more times than you've ever been told you are loved, you have a pretty hard time believing that love is even meant for someone like you.

Would you even want it if it came around?

Maybe your ex broke you apart a little bit more than you would like to admit to yourself. And maybe, your father's constant absentness and bitter resentment towards you and the rest of the world did too.

There are a few beats of silence as you look at her, sprawled out on your bed, eating popcorn as if it's her last meal. Sasha is a gorgeous girl, and you can't help but wish you could carry yourself the way she does. Even in private, amidst a casual conversation, there is this sort of radiance that comes from her.

It's bright, warm, and inviting. She is confident, and she doesn't care what anybody thinks about her, and that is something that you aspire to be. Secure in your body, sure of yourself, proud to be who you are. You're working on it.

"Well, I know so," Sasha says with certainty. "But I hope you know that whoever you choose, I will need to approve of them first and foremost. If I don't, or if he does a single thing to hurt you, I'll make sure he runs away crying and shitting his pants."

"You? Really?" You eye Sasha as you pull the hanger off the waistband of the pants and toss it onto the bed next to her. "How do you plan on doing that?"

She smiles, tilting her chin upward with pride. "Never underestimate the power of a woman."

"Good point." Leaning over, you put on your pair of dark brown corduroy pants, your right leg first, then left. You pull them up. "I guess that I just don't really think of you as the threatening type." You secure your pants in place with the zipper and button and tuck the sweater inside the waistband, pulling it out a little bit.

Sasha makes a pouty face, pushing out her bottom lip. "Hey! I'm scary."

Lowering your upper body down again, you put on a pair of lowcut boots, which match your sweater. "Sasha, you literally have a piece of popcorn stuck on your nose right now, and you're eating out of a bright pink Hello Kitty bowl. Tell me. What's scary about that?"

She rolls her eyes and brushes away any crumbs she might have on her face. "I'm not saying I'm scary now! I'm saying that I can be!"

You stand up straight and throw up your hands in defeat, "Okay. I believe you." You spin toward the mirror and take in the outfit you have thrown together. Finally, one you like.

She smiles, pushing the popcorn bowl off to the side. She lists up her upper body. Scooting herself across your bed, she sits on the edge of it, her feet dangling off. "Wear that." She points at you. "It looks super cute on you. It's totally the vibe of The Garrison, and it makes you look smart and sophisticated."