Fearless

A few months later, things were going well. Rachel had managed to keep her job, even though she had a couple close scrapes with showing up a little too hung-over. Even if it was only because Niall jumped in and defended her.

Rachel was sitting on the couch, watching television on one of her few days off. I had no idea how she could manage to find something to watch at all hours of the day. I found daytime television ridiculously boring, minus the Ellen DeGeneres Show.

“Hey, Jaz,” she called as I tried to sneak past her to go to the bathroom.

“What?” I questioned, pausing and turning to her. With all my might, I hoped she was fast with whatever she was going to say. Because my bladder was seriously going to explode if I didn’t pee within the next minute.

“I just…” she sighed and sat up so she could face me better. “I want to say that I’m sorry for being a bitch when Niall first got me the job. He really did help us, and I’m thankful for what he did.”

“Thanks for your apology,” I told her, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “But don’t you think you should tell him that? I’m not Niall. And I had nothing to do with you getting the job.”

“But you’re his girlfriend!” she groaned. “Can’t you pass on the message or something? It’ll be awkward if I tell him to his face.”

“Sometimes, life is awkward,” I told her, trying to be deep. “Can I pee now?”

“Go ahead. But come back here afterward.”

I sighed and hurried to the bathroom, praying for my bladder to keep it together.

When I walked back to the living room, I plopped myself down on the couch and sighed. “Okay, what?”

“I want to tell you that I like Niall,” she told me seriously.

I cocked an eyebrow at her, urging her to go on.

“Not like that. Obviously. I mean that I like you two together. I think he’s good for you, and I think you keep his life from being too boring. He’s really sweet.”

“I know.” I grinned. “But I’m glad you approve.”

I put my hands on either side to lift myself up, ready to go back to my room and finish my term paper, but Rachel put her hand on my arm and pulled me back down.

“There’s kind of something else…but I want you to be really open-minded about this.”

Oh, God. That couldn’t have opened up to good news. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything dumb and get fired,” I pleaded.

She pretended to look absolutely aghast at the prospect. “Of course not. Just hear me out, okay?”

I stared at her, waiting for her to say something else.

“So you know how I went…out…last night, right?”

I nodded. It had been a fairly easy retrieval. She hadn’t gotten quite as drunk as usual, and no guy had tried to take advantage of her.

“I kind of met someone,” she told me in a voice slightly above a whisper. “Kind of.”

My eyes turned into saucers as I reached forward and smacked her shoulder. “Oh my God. Details, please! And where was she when I showed up?”

Rachel cleared her throat and squirmed in her seat. “Okay, so her name is Caroline. She has hair just a couple shades dark than mine and pale skin and eyes the darkest brown I’ve ever seen. She’s so beautiful, Jazzy.”

The goofy smile on her face made my stomach jump with excitement. “What happened with her?”

“We talked for a while, which actually distracted me from drinking a little bit. But she likes to have a good time, so we both drank a bit. But she had to leave right before you came, since she had to get back to her house by her curfew.”

“Did you get her number? Go any further than just talking?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. We just talked. And she has my number, and she said she’d text me, but she hasn’t.”

“Maybe she’s not up yet,” I remarked, noticing that it was only eleven in the morning. “After all, you wouldn’t be awake if I hadn’t vacuumed this morning.”

Rachel laughed before narrowing her eyes at me jokingly. “True. Which pissed me off. Who the fuck vacuums at nine thirty in the morning?!”

“People who are expecting their boyfriend to come over later,” I responded with an irritated look. “And people who have sloppy cousins who get tortilla chip crumbs all over the carpet when she eats them.”

She gave me an innocent grin. “You always could have waited until I woke up, you know. When is Niall coming over?”

“Uh...four? Five? Something like that.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically and expressed, “Then why were you vacuuming so early?! What if I ate more tortilla chips and got more crumbs on the floor?”

“Then I’d vacuum again,” I stated simply, getting to my feet. “Alright, now that you’re done telling me about your mystery girlfriend and all the gossip ended, I’m going back into my room to finish my paper.”

I was almost back to my room when I heard Rachel call out my name. “Jazmine?”

I turned to face her, running a hand through my short locks, which had almost grown out all the black coloring in the few months since I’d been with Niall. For the first time in years, I had red hair. “Yeah?” I asked when Rachel didn’t follow up her first statement right away.

“Thanks. And, uh, I’m sorry for being such a hassle.”

I gave her a confused look. “Um...it’s okay?” I thought about going into my room and pretending her statement didn’t mean anything, but I couldn’t get myself to ignore it. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I just...I’ve been thinking a lot lately. That’s all.”

I pretended to know what she was talking about. “Okay.” I paused for a couple seconds before adding, “By the way, call me out if Caroline texts you.”

“Alright. Will do.”

With that, I disappeared back into my room, smiling widely. It had been so long since Rachel was romantically involved with someone, so the fact that there was a possibility looming that she could have someone new made me excited.

And it was possible that if Rachel wouldn’t listen to me about rehab, maybe she would listen to Caroline. It was a long shot, especially considering how stubborn Rachel could be and the fact that Caroline hadn’t even initiated contact, but I still hoped. Something had to get Rachel into rehab. She could only live so long with the amount she partied and drank. It was only a matter of time before her liver gave out on her, and then she gave out on herself.

I sighed and shook my head. There was no way I was going to get my paper done if I kept thinking about a way to force Rachel into rehab.

But even so, my thoughts drifted back to the subject, the English Renaissance taking a backseat in my list of priorities. Was it possible that, even if Rachel did agree to go to rehab, that it would even stick? Wasn’t a whole part of rehab that the subjects had to want it for themselves, to feel in their heart of hearts that they really wanted to improve, instead of succumbing to whatever the people around them wanted? I was pretty sure I’d heard that if people went to rehab to appease other people, then they had a much higher chance of relapse.

“Ugh,” I groaned, leaning forward and putting my face in my hands, massaging my temples. “Brain, shut up.”

Eventually, it did, and I was able to finish my paper.