For Us

“Wake up.”

Well, Stella really had a way with words, didn’t she? Just, wow, poof. Magic. Two words, and I was most definitely wide awake and ready to start my day.

I only wished it was that easy. Fuck, after pulling Sean out of the water, getting myself soaked in the process, we had an interesting day. Sean got so cold, I thought he was gonna fucking die, but he didn’t. Probably because he stripped down to his boxers-briefs. Then, I gave him his jacket back and hugged onto him for the rest of the boat ride. Literally. We just stood on the inside of the boat, which was a bit warmer than outside, and hugged the rest of the time.

He kept mumbling how sorry he was that he caused me to miss seeing the city from the water, and I assured him at least ten times that it was okay. That I could see it any day. Then, of course, there were the sex jokes. “You know the fastest way to warm me up, Sparks? Let’s both get naked and do it, right fucking here.”

I had to admit, he was good. Relentless bastard, but it worked how he intended it. He actually had me thinking about just going for it.

Stella and Norman would have probably thrown us both overboard if we had, so I decided for our health, it was better to stick with hugging.

I didn’t have to force being mad at him at that time. I mean, the fucker was freezing to death. I could cut him some slack, right?

Well, after the boat ride was over, he had to put his wet clothes back on, and we all hurried into the Escalade. He was too cold to drive, so Norman did it while I sat in the back with him, still doing whatever I could to get him warm.

Then, he had to change, and we had to, like, turn the fireplaces in his house on, turn the heat up to a fuck ton too hot, and it was just crazy. It wasn’t even eight when Stella and I went home, but after giving each other manicures, we were both so tired that we crashed.

And God only knew what time it was now . . . .

I groaned and held the pillow over my head, keeping all light from burning my eyes. “I thought we were just sleeping in today.”

“Well, dearest, I think three o’clock is a bit much,” she said, and she continued nudging me. “Now, come on. You promised we’d go out today before I have to go to work, so get your skinny ass out of bed and get dressed. You’re not bailing on this date, and I expect you to make yourself look presentable.”

This date with Stella was needed, more needed than I let on to even myself. So even though I ached all over from being in bed fifteen fucking hours, I dragged my ass out of bed and hoped into a hot, fix-all shower.

It certainly fixed all. I felt ready to run a marathon, so walking the streets of New York would be nothing.

My long, dark chocolate hair was thick, so it took me an hour or so to straighten it. Stella planned to leave at four thirty, so it didn’t leave me long to do everything else. I put the top half of my hair up and braided the ponytail from that, and I put on some winged eyeliner, mascara, and strawberry lip gloss.

I slipped into my destroyed dark wash skinny jeans, pulled over my off white “In Life Simple is Best” sweater, pulled on my navy blue toboggan with gold studs, and put my black hidden wedge sneakers on.

Stella was waiting by the door, dressed to kill herself in a black “Tattoos and Whiskey make me Frisky” tank top, green cargo jacket, camo mini with ripped black leggings underneath, studded leather bracelet, studded combat boots, and a black “Stellr” snapback with her brown hair left naturally wavy underneath. A dash of smoky makeup on her eyes was all she did, and with a smile, the two of us headed out to start our evening in the city.

“What time do you have to work?” I asked as the two of us made our way down to the Stingray and hopped in.

Stella’s lip disappeared between her teeth, a nervous twitch I noticed she had. A lot of people had it, but it was odd because what could make her nervous about that question?

“Eleven,” she said.

I nodded and leaned back into my seat. Unlike the last time I rode in the car, I didn’t press my face into the glass and stare out the window. I sat back and enjoyed the time I had with my best friend.

“Gotham didn’t really strike me as the type of bar to stay open all night,” I said.

“Oh, I don’t work nights at Gotham,” she murmured, and once again, she started chewing on her lip. “I work at this club in Queens. I’m a bartender there, too. Mostly nights and weekends.”

That must’ve been what made her nervous, this club. I didn’t understand why, but I also got the feeling pressing it wouldn’t matter because she wouldn’t tell anyways.

Still worth a shot.

“What kind of club is it?”

“Just any ordinary club,” she said, but she didn’t look at me—I guess that made sense, considering she was driving and all.

I started chewing my own lip. This was a fine line I was stepping to here. Asking too many questions always irritated Stella, and she stopped talking about things, but I had to know that my best friend was okay.

“Are the people there pretty shitty at nights?”

“Sometimes,” she said, and her breaths came out pretty rugged for a minute. Almost like she was a bit scared of it. “I, uh . . . I can handle myself, but some of the things they try on me or my coworkers just . . . it’s rough, ya know? But, bills to pay.”

“You know, I’m not totally opposed to moving to New York,” I said. “I could move in and help. You wouldn’t have to work that job.”

I knew the answer I was gonna get, but the smile she wore surprised me—one of those rare and genuine Stella smiles. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather not have to listen to you and Sean fucking all the time.”

“Hey, no boys today,” I disagreed. “We’re on our date, so fuck those two.”

She kept her smile and nodded. “Fuck yeah then. So, we need to get you some clothes, cause I noticed you were out. I’m doing laundry tomorrow morning before work, so what you have that’s just dirty, you can come with and wash.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed. “But I’ve got to get a fucking warm jacket, or I’m gonna die before the three weeks I’ve got is up.”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Three weeks? Back to shooting then?”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “It really sucks, too, cause I was gonna go see my parents while off, but right now, I just can’t see myself leaving here. I’ve got too much unfinished business to take care of.”

And she couldn’t argue with that.

There was a comfortable silence then, and while Stella drove to wherever she planned for us to shop, I decided to stop being a recluse and get back to the social media world.

Well, I say get back, but in reality, I meant see what was going on with my friends and then getting back off. Maybe say something about how wonderful New York is.

What I saw, though, wasn’t exactly wonderful. In some ways it was, but in others . . . .

You know, I really thought we were gonna be adults about this. I mean, Kara had no fucking idea what actually happened, but still, she had to find me on Twitter and post shit about me with me tagged in it just to, you know, make things even better for me.

But what she did was the stupid part. Someone had gotten a picture of Sean and me on the boat yesterday, when he embraced me before falling off the back. You couldn’t really see all that well, but you could tell it was Sean, and if you knew me, you could tell it was me.

The caption to the picture said, “It’s sad, isn’t it? How one day they decide you’re not what they wanted after all. They just go, and they don’t look back. But you can’t look away. </3”

“Fucking whore,” I muttered as I quickly retreated away from social media.

Fuck social media. What was it good for? Spreading rumors, starting shit, keeping up with your favorite actors and movies . . . .

Not worth it to me.

When Stella’s eyebrows rose, I sighed. “Stupid whore. No big deal. Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Yet another stupid question,” she said, and she smirked over at me. “You know I’ll do anything for you, girl. Even if it means twenty plus years waiting for the death penalty.”

I smiled. “Well, you’re in luck. That’s not what this requires. Just . . . let me get today? You work so hard, and I’m staying in your home. Consider it compensation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not happening.”

“I’m at least paying for dinner,” I said. “And I’m not taking no for an answer, so just don’t even bother.”

She scoffed. “Yeah. We’ll see about that.”
***
About two hours of shopping later, we decided that it was time for food.

I had managed to buy Stell some stuff she really wanted but couldn’t afford—considering she had a fucking huge car payment every month—so I felt pretty confident about dinner.

Since I was the tourist, I got to pick wherever I wanted. And I picked this Italian restaurant that didn’t make you feel completely out of place dressed in jeans and a shirt.

Stella looked a bit relieved when we stepped inside, even more so when we saw the sign that said “Please seat yourself.”

“Well, I can do that,” she scoffed, and her grey eyes almost immediately found a place. “Come on over here.”

We settled into a booth in the far corner, and almost as soon as we sat down, our waiter came and got our order. He was kinda hitting on Stella a bit, who looked a bit embarrassed and pissed all at once. I found it amusing, so I hid behind my menu and tried so hard to stifle back a laugh.

After ordering two Cokes, spaghetti, and chicken parmesan, the waiter left to get the breadsticks for the “pretty ladies,” but I think he said that so it wasn’t totally obvious he meant Stella.

She glared at me when my laughter came out. “Oh hush.”

“You should totally get his number.”

“Are you insane?” she asked. While I laughed some more, she rolled her eyes and started rubbing along the tattoo on her arm—an hour glass with thorny vines wrapped around it. It took up her entire right forearm, and once she shed her jacket, you could see it all.

It was incredible.

“That’s up for debate, but my answer is yes,” I said, and the waiter came back right about then with our drinks.

He noticed Stella’s arm now and got this huge smile. “Nice ink. I’ve got a compass on my bicep.”
In his white button-up, even with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you couldn’t see it, but I don’t think Stella really cared to see it.

She pointed at my hand. “She’s got that on her hand. A friend of ours drew that.”

“That’s pretty good,” he said. “Tell your friend I’d buy a tattoo drawing from them.”

“He’s not selling,” Stella informed him. “He’s really too busy to get into all that.”

And the guy wouldn’t leave. For fuck’s sake, I mean, he sat our drinks down, and I was almost finished with mine before he left. It was the only reason he left, because I needed more drink. Granted, he was kinda cute. Had those curly blonde locks that made girls swoon, and pretty hazel blue eyes, but he wasn’t someone I would flip over.

Then again, I was probably biased.

Stella rubbed her hands over her face and narrowed her eyes. “Still think I should give him my number?”

“I hear one night stands are exciting,” I tried, but she knew as well as I did that I wasn’t a fan of them. Personally, I didn’t get the point, but I blame that on my upbringing. My parents didn’t really teach me to wait until I was married to have sex, but they taught me to wait until it was someone I at least cared about.

And that’s what I had done. In high school, all the guys I dated never really cared much about me. Some of them, I wasn’t convinced weren’t just with me because they were scared Stella would beat them up if they said no . . . but the point was, too many just wanted sex. They never wanted to care about me or let me care about them. It was all just a big score.

Sean was different, which was why I was so fucking nervous about it. Twenty-three years young, and I was a virgin. None of the people I was closest to knew that, but I had to tell Sean, right? I mean, once I wasn’t trying to be mad at him. When sex was on the table.

The thought of it, though, made me nervous. At this point, I didn’t really care if it was some romantic moment under the stars, or in the back of his Escalade. I didn’t really care. I just wanted it to be good for both of us, which according to Norm, it would be.

I shook the thought of Sean and sex out of my head and focused on Stella, who was still scowling about the “one night stand” comment.

“I know, I know, never again,” I laughed.

“So, I know you said not to talk boys, but I wanna talk boys,” she said, and she leaned towards me. “Have you and Norman ever gotten drunk and slept together?”

I shook my head. “Never. He got drunk one time and slept with my friend, Miranda, but never me. I fucking got out of there.”

She nodded. “I think . . . I think you and Sean should talk about that. He’s a bit worried.”

“I know,” I sighed. “And, I mean, I’m trying to back off Norm a bit so he’s more comfortable, but, I mean, Norman’s a best friend, Stell. A brother even. I can’t just change how comfortable I am with him. I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to Sean,” was all she said, and about that time, the waiter came to our table with the spaghetti and chicken parmesan.

And it was so good.