Grey

One

"And you'd look all hot rocker chick and that's great for you, Rory. But I like the color pink and I brush my hair daily," she said in complete seriousness. "Can you actually try?"

"There was an insult hidden in there, but fine."

"Not hidden," she giggled as I elbowed her, slowly beginning to sift through clothes. "Maybe a dress?"

"Easy access." It was my turn to get elbowed as I laughed, seeing a pattern I liked and grabbing it. "This is nice, what about this?"

"Nice is good. I think?"

"Nice is good."

I watched as she stood up, screeching as she caught the time and ran towards the bathroom. I laughed to myself, laying back and staring at the ceiling.

Em and I met when we were both new at our all girls private school in the Palisades, finding solace in one another's quiet personalities. While Cal had immediately gravitated towards the other nepo babies, I had a hard time finding common ground and chose to keep to myself. When Em showed up, we were immediately inseparable - at least until my parents' divorce and I met Max.

While the years in between were full of highs and lows but mostly lows, I was thankful that Em had accepted me back with open arms. It was rare to find a friend who wouldn't ask questions and just found it in themselves to forgive. I'd never consider myself the warmest person, but I'd take a bullet for Em any day. I just wouldn't tell her that.

"Okay, I mean. This isn't bad. What do you think?" She did a quick spin, her naturally wavy blonde hair fanning out. "I think this works."

"Really pretty."

She rolled her eyes at my unenthused response but I knew she bought it because she was smiling. I took the extended hand she offered, standing up and making my way towards the door.

"Ror, when's the last time you went on a date?"

I nonchalantly shrugged, watching as she pretended to be casual about the not-so-casual question. She put her earrings in, hesitantly glancing over at me.

"Not since Max, right?"

It had been over two years since the break-up and it made me sick to my stomach that the mere mention of his name still had any power over me. I dodged her eyes, finding a small stain on the corner of my shirt.

"I'm not really in a hurry to replace one asshole with another," I muttered, half joking. "Vibrators are a beautiful thing."

"Gross, Rory."

I laughed, giving in and looking at her to catch the look of disgust she was giving me. "You asked."

"I was just going to say, it wouldn't hurt to go on a date. I'm not saying you have to get a boyfriend, I just... it would be good for you."

"Yes, mother."

"I'm serious," she gently pressed. "What about the guy at work? Just once."

"I don't need a man in my life, Em."

We stared at one another, a million and one unspoken words hanging in the air. I really didn't want to have the conversation and I was thankful she dropped it. "I think Bryce is here."

"Have fun, use a condom."

The quiet of our apartment was rare and didn't usually bother me, but Em's departure had left a lonely cloud over my head. I wasn't sure if it was the uncomfortable conversation, the bitter reminder of reality, or just my mood. I made my way to my room, looking for an easy distraction.

I put a Tom Petty record on and pulled off my jeans, discarding them in the hamper. The warm light cast a soft glow over the mess that was my room, but for once it looked clean in comparison to Em's. Running Down a Dream played as I subconsciously swayed my hips, walking towards my standing mirror to look at the stain on my shirt from a different angle. Losing my focus, I stared at my reflection.

I looked into my eyes, the soft brown I knew so well nothing special. My lips were slightly chapped, hair a knotted mess hanging flat. I let my eyes drag down past my average chest, wider-than-average hips. I didn't even have a chance to look at the length of my legs as my eyes settled on the ugly mark on my right thigh. The jagged skin had a purple hue, the scar a bitter reminder of a night I wanted so desperately to forget.

I looked away, huffing under my breath and pulling my shirt over my head. I walked to my dresser, grabbing the biggest t-shirt I could find and tugging it on. It fell just past my mid thigh, hiding what I wanted.

I crawled on top of my unmade bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and wishing I had more self control than I did. Opening Instagram, I easily typed the familiar name into the search bar and indulged myself, seeing the most recent tagged photos appear. They looked happy, he looked happy. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen a smile that met his eyes like that, and I knew that the blonde on his arm was the reason for it. Underneath, I assumed her and I were different - she had to be, he left me for her. But on the surface, we might as well have been from different planets.

The ache in my chest was self-inflicted. I put my phone face down on the comforter next to me, angry at myself as I shut my eyes and let the music pull me under.