1.1 | constellations of you and me ✓

04 | cassiopeia

WHEN CHASE COMES OVER, IT'S ALWAYS A SHIT-SHOW. Eloise is sprawled out on their plush beige couch, one leg hanging off the edge and the other resting on Parker's shoulder, who's comfortably settled on the ground. Chase Kennedy is pacing in front of the television, black hair swinging around slim shoulders as she creates dramatic hand gestures. After meeting Parker in freshman year, Eloise had told herself that she didn't need anyone else, but a couple of months ago, Chase had transferred to UCLA from Delaware and wiggled her way to be the center of their relationship. She's a spunky little thing, opinionated voice and all, but a sweetheart. Hurting her feelings is like stepping on a puppy: impossible and horribly cruel.

The girl shouts something in rapid-fire Spanish, too quick for Eloise to even comprehend what she's saying.

"So my therapist goes, 'I think it's best to let go of your past life and continue to embrace the future of endless possibilities before you.' And I'm, like, what the hell? Lady, what do you think I'm trying to do?" Chase huffs and leans against the wall. "I can't go back to that place, guys, I just can't."

Eloise tries to make her voice gentle. "Chase, you've tried every therapist in town. What's left?"

"—and you've hated all of them," Parker adds. Her voice is soft.

Chase groans and runs a hand through her hair. "I don't know, I just—I just want to remember."

Although she hasn't shared much yet, Eloise and Parker know that the younger girl's been through some exponentially jacked-up shit. Last year, she had been driving home from the local grocery store when a drunk driver had smashed into her car. She'd ended up in the emergency room for an immediate surgery, and thankfully everything turned out okay.

Except for her memory.

Eloise winces internally and wonders what to say next. She wants to help Chase, but not too sure how. Much like herself.

Parker beats her to it. "I think you just need to think about the good things." A pause, and Chase's eyes glint in acceptance. "You have all your limbs and they work fine, and you're not in a hospital where someone feeds you on the daily. All good things, right?"

The dark-haired girl sighs and throws herself on the couch, feet flailing. "Yeah. I—thanks. I needed that," she mutters, voice stuffy from the pillow. There's thirty seconds of silence as Eloise lets Chase calm down, and then—

"Oh, my God, you had a date!"

Eloise cringes and groans, rubbing her eyes with her hands. "Chase, it wasn't a date," she defends. "We were just talking."

Parker laughs in disbelief. "Liar! He waited for two whole hours. And then brought you to his aunt's diner for free food. If that's not considered a date anymore, romance doesn't exist."

Her mind is too flustered over what happened Friday night, and the flashbacks keep running through Eloise's mind. Jonah is definitely a sweetheart—too good for someone like her. Too good for anyone.

Eloise shakes her head. "I don't date. You guys know that."

"Aren't you going over his place soon?" Chase has a small smile on her lips, like a devil wearing an angel's crown. She's disgustingly pretty, clear eyes and a voice like sunflowers.

Parker rolls her eyes. "Yeah, whatever," she scoffs. "To fuckin' study."

"We saw him at his game, and—"

Parker interrupts. "He's hot. Like, really, really hot. He even has a whole damn wannabe fan club in the bleachers."

I know, Eloise thinks. His eyes are light—pools of honey, so thick and so sweet that she ends up drowning in the gold of his irises. And his hair is adorable messy, like the dimple on his cheekbone.