golden

VI

*:･ﾟ✧ 2300 hours.
Downtown Los Angeles.

We don't waste any more time getting to the hotel that night. As soon as the cab drops Trix and me off, we take our bags and walk through the grand revolving doors into the lobby. I'm crazily eccentric, so naturally, I booked us a room in the finest hotel in the city.

Room 814. Floor 7.

"Holy shit, Charlie," Trix gasps when the door swings open.

"You really didn't expect me to settle for anything less, did you?" I laugh.

She just grins at me, throwing her bags down and running towards to California king-sized bed. I follow close behind, flopping down dramatically next to her.

"I'm exhausted," I say, and she hums in agreement.

"Yeah," Trix jokes, "stealing fake Rolexes must be so draining."

"It is."

"Mhm."

We lay next to one another for a while, staring at the ceiling in silence. I'm perfectly content at this moment and I don't want it to end. I'm not worried about meeting with my brother for the first time in years tomorrow. I'm not stressed over evading the feds. I'm not thinking about my next heist, concerned about how each and every minor detail might affect the end result. It's peaceful.

Trix breaks the silence, huffing as she abruptly sits up and moves to get off the bed.

"C'mon, Charlie," she encourages me, "I think we should wash up before we go to sleep."

I nod and grab my luggage from where I left it by the door and my best friend does the same. We enter the en suite bathroom and even I have to admit that the sheer luxury of it all blows me away.

Trix trails behind me with her collection of suitcases, I'm amazed she was able to take this much onto the plane to begin with.

"What do you need all of this for?"

"Don't make fun, Charlie," she scolds me, "I have an extremely complex skincare routine."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," I snort.

We stand in silence for a while, working on our 'extremely complex' skincare routines. I aspire to be as dedicated as Trix is. I finish getting ready to sleep before she does, but I decide to move to sit on the counter beside her as she continues to diligently work.

"Do you think that getting back together with an ex is a good idea?" Trix asks me out of the blue and in a rush of breath, signaling that she was contemplating voicing this question for a while.

"It depends on the ex," I say, shrugging my shoulders, "and why the relationship ended."

"Have you ever gotten back together with any of your exes?" She asks, still not looking at me, in the midst of applying moisturizer. I'm not quite sure why she's asking these questions as if she doesn't already know everything about me. I have an inclination as to what she's hinting at, but I refuse to dwell on that for too long.

"No," I answer her simply.

"Would you?"

"Would I, what?"

"...Ever get back together with an ex?"

I look down at my hands, fiddling with the cold metal rings I haven't taken off just yet. I don't know how to respond. Not because I don't know the answer, but because I don't want to say it aloud. Voicing something gives whatever you say another level of realness. I don't know if I'm ready to admit that.

"Charlie?" I look up at her to find her looking at me, done with her insane skincare routine for the night.

I sigh and look away for a moment, collecting my thoughts and preparing myself for what I'm about to admit. I look back at my best friend, giving her a sad smile along with my dreadful answer.

"It would depend on the ex," I say quietly and she frowns at me. The suspicions I know she held are confirmed.

Trixie knows exactly who I'm referring to.