The City | GirlxGirl

four ➳

Like a constant hangover, sunlight always gave Skylar a headache when it was what woke her in the morning. If she had stayed at her own house last night, she would've slept far later than 9:30AM, with the blinds closed tightly and the house empty. But because she had complied with Blair's request, she woke on the brown loveseat that was too small for her height of 5 feet and 9 inches, and immediately became aware of the footsteps dancing around in the tiny kitchen beside her.

Pushing the hair out of her eyes and behind her ears, Skylar sat up, peering over the arm of the couch. She found Blair, quite literally skipping to and from the kitchen counter and small wooden table, delivering plates of eggs and bacon, cups of orange juice and utensils.

"Morning sleepyhead," said Blair.

Blonde hair, dyed; her dark roots were peeking through her centre-part. Her hair fell just above her shoulders, curled loosely, framing her bright smile that shone brighter than all of Toronto's city lights combined. Skylar couldn't deny it. She saw the lights turn on and off five days a week at the bar, and they weren't nearly as enticing, nor illuminating, as Blair.

"Sorry I slept in," Skylar lied. She wished she could have slept more, and riden herself of the fatigue that ensued from long hours of serving drinks and ignoring catcalls from middle aged men.

"No worries." Blair eyed her curiously, and Skylar knew she was looking for any sign of an emotional breakdown. Satisfied that she had found none, she said, "You do look tired, though."

"Head hurts," Skylar said, pointing her thumb behind her at the window. "Sun."

"Hangover?"

"You know I don't drink." Her words were muffled beneath a pillow that she had latched onto, wishing she could fall asleep once again, but knowing it wasn't possible.

"I know, just teasing. Are you hungry, though? I made breakfast."

Skylar was starving, having never eaten dinner during her break last night. Getting off of the couch was difficult; her tired, starved muscles screamed in protest; her joints clicked and cracked as she made her way towards the kitchen.

A few moments of silence. Skylar wasn't quiet, necessarily. Especially not with Blair. And the blonde girl sitting opposite of Skylar wasn't quiet at all. There were days when Skylar couldn't take her constant chatter. And there were days when Blair's voice was the only sound she wanted to hear.

Blair twisted her fork in circles between her fingers. The metal danced in her hand as she kept her eyes towards Skylar, whose dark brown eyes were fixated on the plate she was rapidly clearing. She never knew how to bring it up. Maybe it was because Skylar was stubborn, or maybe it was just the subject of death and anniversaries and cemeteries that was so awkward to talk about. In this case, Blair decided, it was both.

"Skylar," she began, setting her fork down beside the plate of food she had not yet touched.

"Blair," Skylar said, mimicking the serious tone with a grin.

Blair's set expression didn't falter. "I think we should talk about Logan."

Skylar's eyebrows raised. She seemed to consider it, for a moment, but, like Blair guessed, she quickly turned down the suggestion.

"It was the anniversary of her death yesterday, Skylar. Four years-"

"I know."

"And I think you should talk about how, you know...how it makes you feel."

Skylar lifted her glass of orange juice; full then, but after a long thirty seconds, empty. She set it back down gently, not wanting to express to Blair how uncomfortable she was about this conversation by slamming the glass against the wooden surface.