Made

The premiere was only a few weeks later, and without thinking anything of it, he invited Jen to stay with him for a couple of days. She was excited, pure exuberance and bright enthusiasm, and he was excited as well. It had been a while since he'd last seen her, and was looking forward to it.

She rang the doorbell instead of knocking, and that was when he realized that he'd made a mistake. Laila was sitting on the couch doing a word find with a bright pink highlighter while her iPod played from a set of speakers behind the bar. She wasn't even fazed by the ringing, the relentless noise that was doing his head in, and didn't look up when he opened the door.

Jen hugged him instantly, and he was weighed down by her arms and her heavy bag. Nick was standing behind her, smiling jovially. He'd forgotten they were a two for one deal. Michael shook Nick's hand, wanting to punch him in the face instead.

Jen shrieked when she got into the living room, causing Laila to drop her highlighter as she was wrapped into a bone-crunching hug.

"No way!" Jen shouted. "When the fuck did you get here?" Michael didn't say anything, wondering what the protocol for this would be.

"He's letting me stay the weekend before I have to go back up North," Laila responded.

"Shit!" Jen said. "That's fucking awesome." Laila smiled, but didn't say anything. "It sucks that you have to go back so soon, though. We should hang out."

Jen wrapped Laila into another hug. "Fuck. I didn't even think you guys liked each other that much," she said.

"Eh," Laila said. "I've known worse."

"Isn't this great, Nick?" Jen said, ignoring Laila. Nick merely smiled in Laila's direction. "God," Jen said. "What even happened to you in L.A.?"

"Work." Laila lied effortlessly. "Got called back to Baltimore."

"Oh fuck!" Jen laughed. "Wouldn't that suck if you had run into your ex-girlfriend?"

Laila smiled wanly. "Don't think I'd be here to tell the tale," she said.

Jen smiled back, reaching around Laila for the remote. She turned off the music and switched on the television.

"Hey, is it alright if I record 'Game of Thrones' for tonight?" she asked Michael.

He nodded, shooting a glance at Laila, who was pointedly looking everywhere but at Nick.

"I just can't stop watching it," Jen said. "It's so weird to think that Nick like knows people on it."

Laila turned away from Jen, stifling a smirk. "Yeah," Laila said. "You won't believe the stories they have about him."

"Fuck me!" Jen laughed.

Nick gave him a nudge, and the two of them went out back into the garden while the girls talked. Or rather, while Jen talked.

"I honestly thought she'd kill you," Nick said. He smirked, a hateful little grin that Michael wanted to punch.

"You left her in a right fucking state," he spit.

Nick shrugged. "She's fine."

"No thanks to you."

Nick laughed. He had the audacity to laugh. Michael cocked his arm back, preparing to hit him, already forgoing the consequences, when Jen stuck her head out the door.

"Hey! We want food!"

Hours later, Laila was curled up in the corner of the couch opposite to the one he was sprawled out in. They had gotten a pizza, which Jen had devoured, and Laila had merely picked at. He frowned all through dinner, only smiling when Jen was looking directly at him. He could already hear Laila's excuses.

"You didn't eat a lot tonight," he said, interrupting the silence that had settled over them since Jen and Nick had gone to bed.

Laila shrugged. "Can I go out tonight?" she asked.

"Go out where?" he responded, though he had meant to say that she could do whatever she wanted.

"There's a party. I've been invited."

He grimaced. They'd made a lot of progress since she'd come back. But now she'd just shut down.

"Look," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm exhausted from keeping up appearances. I just wanna get drunk."

"You can do that here," he said gruffly. He wanted to rewind the conversation and just say yes, but he was in too deep now.

Laila stood up and walked over to the bar, pulling out a thing of sapphire gin he had tucked away. He watched her warily, thinking she would put it back and go for the beer instead. But she plopped back down on the couch with the bottle in her hand, then tipped her head back and chugged it. She must have been at least a quarter of the way through it before she stopped for a breath.

He watched her drink the whole bottle, sometimes sipping the blue liquid, other times just slamming it back into her throat. She set it on the coffee table when she was done, making a face.

"That was fucking disgusting," she said.

"It's supposed to be mixed with something," he replied.

She shuddered, going back over to the bar. She swayed a little bit, and he had to fight back an urge to stand up to steady her.

"Hey," he said. She stopped, looking over at him in mid lean. "I think you've had enough."

Laila winked at him, then reached behind the beer again to pull out a bottle of water. He sighed.

"She's so beautiful," Laila said, flopping beside him on the couch. She was so close he could smell the alcohol on her breath. He looked immediately to the television, but couldn't see what she was talking about. Laila had made him put on an old Premier League match, and there were hardly any women on the screen.

"Jen, I mean," she clarified. "I get it." He blushed, hoping she couldn't see him turning red, but felt her grin as she rested her face against his side. Her fingers were curled against his chest, gently scratching him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, clearing his throat. Laila merely chuckled.

"She probably makes the perfect little noises," she whispered. His throat went dry. "When she's gagging around you and can't talk." Laila giggled. "I'll bet she fucks like a fairy on acid." Her fingers slid down his chest and into his lap.

Michael stiffened, wrapping his hand around her wrist, preparing to stop whatever she was doing. He looked over to stay something, but she was asleep.

He rubbed his hands over his face, and turned off the television. She was drunk. That was all. She was drunk and angry and there wasn't anything in the words that she said. Either way, he left her to sleep it off on the couch.