Temporary Fix

It began on a Tuesday -- the worst week of my life -- or as I also liked to call it, The Week of Mara Horton’s Demise. And it all started with a picture.

When I had woken up that morning, well rested and ready to start the day, I hadn’t really expected it to take the turn it did. I’d done what I always did -- showered, dressed, and had my avocado and eggs on toast with a cup of strawberry green tea. It wasn’t until I was on my lunch break later that day at work that it all went down. I’d just stuffed myself with a grilled cheese sandwich from down the block and was sitting in my office cubicle, scrolling through my Instagram feed when one of the pictures in particular made me stop and take a closer look.

My ex-boyfriend, Liam, had posted it about seven hours ago from the inside of a flashy club with his friend, Penelope. There were two reasons why it made me stop. The first reason, I’d recognized her. She was one of his best friends from high school and she often joined us when we all went out. I quite liked her and wouldn’t have really had a problem with the fact that she was in his picture, which led me to the second point. The second reason, the two were sitting at a close proximity. Now, I could tell it was a selfie, but even then, something seemed a little intimate with how they were posed and smiling at the camera. It was rubbing me the wrong way and making me feel territorial with Liam.

Liam and I had met back in my freshmen year of college at UCLA. We’d started dating the following year after having bumped into each other a number of times at parties, bars, and all over campus. It didn’t date long for my feelings for him to start forming. He was cute, sweet, and had an amazing body. We spent a blissful two and a half years together and it didn’t start getting difficult until after we graduated. Maybe it was the high of still being students and not quite being in the real world yet that made it easy for us in the beginning. Once we graduated, though,  it seemed as though we couldn’t stop disagreeing and arguing about life, career paths, and other dumb adult things. It eventually got to be too much. At some point about a month ago, we decided that it was time to go our separate ways.

I wouldn’t lie and say I hadn’t been holding out a torch for Liam since it happened. Since he was my first serious boyfriend, the breakup was hard for me. We met each other's families, went on vacations together, and even contemplated living together, though we’d broken up before that could happen. Liam was the perfect boy to take home to Mom and tie the knot with, and I figured that we were just going through a rough patch. The two of us spoke only a few times since we’d called it quits, but I was sure he felt the same way. It was an amicable and mature break -- one that I was sure was going to turn into a makeup very soon. I was just waiting for the right time. We both needed to figure out what we really needed to do and once we did, we were going to get back together. I was sure of it.

What I wasn’t sure about was this picture. I continued to stare at it for a good few minutes, wondering if I should ignore it and go on with my day, or press the like button to seem casual, while also making sure Liam and Penelope knew I’d seen it. It was almost ridiculous to me because the last time I’d checked, Penelope had a boyfriend, and her and Liam were nothing more than friends. Before I could sit and overanalyze the silly Instagram post some more, my lunch break was over and I needed to get back to work.

Twenty minutes in, though, it almost seemed pointless to try to get some of my tasks done because my mind kept wandering back to the picture. It was a good thing it was a slow day at work, otherwise I would have been in deep shit with my boss. I worked as a marketer for a local skin care company called Naked. Ironically enough, it was Liam who helped me find the job and prepare for my interview. He’d heard from a friend of a friend that they were looking for fresh, new marketing graduates to work for them and Liam recommended me right away. We’d had celebratory sex for a whole two days after that.

It was truly a good relationship and I couldn’t help but miss it.



I wasn’t usually one to go out on a Tuesday night to party, but with the way I’d been stressing out and obsessing over that Instagram picture, I’d figured it would help get my mind off of it. There was nothing a little clubbing couldn’t fix; who cared if it was on a weekday? I was an adult and I was allowed to make these sorts of decisions, no matter how reckless. And even though I was going out to forget about the picture, it didn't mean I didn’t rant about it to my best friend slash roommate, Ava.

“I know she’s just a friend, but you should have seen how close they looked, Ava. I just don’t understand,” I told her while swiping a coat of liquid matte lipstick on my lips. It was a nude pink shade and it worked well with my little black dress that I had put on.

Ava, on the other hand, was sitting on her bed with only a pair of underwear and bra on while using her big mirror to apply her makeup. She’d been listening diligently as I’d explained to her how agonizing my day went. After closing the cap on my lipstick, I stuffed it in my makeup bag and turned to look at Ava. She was making her mascara face as she applied coat after coat onto her lower lashes until they were thick clumps.

“Are you going to say anything?” I asked her, feeling impatient. She hadn’t many any comments since I’d told her.

“Like what?” she asked, finally putting the mirror and mascara tube down. She began searching through her bag and took out a lip gloss stick.

It was annoying me that she was just ignoring me and acting completely nonchalant about the whole thing. I knew that if any of her ex-boyfriends pulled some shit like this, she’d be pissed and running to his house with a box of matches and gasoline tank. Then again, her and her boyfriend Louis had been together for a few months and she was quite happy. She wasn’t hating on men like I needed her to, especially with this Instagram Incident. To an outsider, this may seem like a small thing, but to me it meant more because I was trying to hold on to what Liam and I had. I didn’t want to believe there was someone else in the picture.

“Ava,” I said, almost whining. “Come on. I need you.”

Ava sighed, putting everything down once again. “Look,” she began by saying. “You know I love you. And I know that you still have some feelings for Liam. I mean, why wouldn’t you? You dated for years and you were ready to marry the kid if he’d popped the question, but you broke up. And the reason you broke up is because you needed to do your own thing and figure out your shit, and so did he. Right now, though, it just looks like you’re obsessing over a silly picture of Liam and one of his female friends, thus setting you back several steps in your progress. If you want to get back with him, how will you do that if you’ve made no progress?”

I narrowed my eyes slightly at her. Ava had taken an introductory Psychology course back in college as an elective and ever since then she always tried to spout off some sort of psychoanalysis of me or anyone who asked her for any advice. It was both annoying and eye opening; while I knew she had a point, I also didn’t want to hear that. What I wanted to hear was my best friend bitching about this picture that had turned my day into hell. However, I knew Ava wasn’t going to do that. She’d already given her two cents and I could tell where she was coming from.

“You’re right,” I eventually said. “I guess I am worrying over nothing.”

Ava smiled, like she’d just solved a rubik's cube. “That’s like my babe,” she said before getting up off the bed and pulling on her mini skirt and lace camisole. “Now please go pick out your shoes. Louis will be here soon and he hates waiting for us.”

“Black or pink?” I asked her, quickly heading to my room.

“Black if you’re looking to just chill and have a good time and pink if you’re trying to hook up with somebody,” was Ava’s answer.

After staring at my two sets of heels, I settled on the black. There was only one boy I wanted to hook up with, and he wasn’t even going to be there tonight.



We’d been at the club a total of forty minutes and Ava and Louis were already grinding on each other in our booth. They hadn’t even made it to the dance floor this time as Ava decided a lapdance would be more convenient for them. I was trying to avert my eyes while drinking my PBR and conversing occasionally with some friendly people nearby.

Tonight we had come to Avalon, our go to bar for the weekdays because it always had something going on. The bar was filled with people, coming and going with their drinks while dancing along to the upbeat dance music the DJ was playing. I wasn’t even planning on drinking tonight because I had work the next morning, so I figured I’d get a soda. Then Ava started persuading me to have a drink with her and once she pulled out the big, blue puppy dog eyes, I couldn’t say no. But my limit was one, no exceptions. I took work really seriously and did not want to jeopardize it in any way.

“Hey, is that Paris Hilton?” Louis asked, looking over Ava’s shoulder in the direction of the entrance. Ava pouted at Louis being distracted, but looked that way as well. It wasn’t rare that celebrities showed up at a club. After all, we did live in L.A. and it was almost common to see celebrities walking about and doing their own thing while paparazzi hounded them for pictures.

I scoped the club, attempting to get a glimpse of Paris, only to spot Liam, followed by Penelope and two of their other friends. They were by the entrance, smiling as they headed towards an empty booth by the bar. My eyes widened and I turned to Ava and Louis. “Liam’s here,” I said to them urgently, breaking up their resumed lapdance session.

The two of them turned to me, surprised etched on their expressions. “Liam Payne, as in your ex-boyfriend?” Louis asked. He’d only met Liam a handful of times because he and Ava started dating during mine and Liam’s Bad Time.

I nodded my head. “He’s here with Penelope,” I said, this time directing the comment to Ava. She looked just as panicked as I did, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Liam, studying him carefully with a small frown on her face. Ava wasn’t Liam’s biggest fan at the moment since she saw how upset he made me when we fought and then eventually broke up. However, she liked him plenty when we were in college and in our Good Time, so I could understand why she felt conflicted.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I responded, turning to look back at Liam. He was sitting down and notably next to Penelope again. They looked to be happy and having a good time, which was alright, I guessed. It was just a little strange to me that Liam was still doing the partying thing on a daily basis, and that too on a weekday. He was in a fraternity back in college, so I’d have expected it from him back then, but not so much now.

Something else that struck me was that Penelope was here with him again. I wondered if they would take another selfie at this club and post it on his Instagram. A part of me knew I was being rather bitter. However, if someone scrolled back only a few posts on his Instagram, they’d see several pictures of me and him smiling and in love. It would just be confusing for his followers, that was all.

I sipped my PBR, watching the pair carefully as they laughed and whispered to each other. While I had always found Penelope to be a sweetheart, I wondered if I was too quick to judge. She was clearly not as innocent and nice as I’d thought. Then again, it was a loud club. People had to talk closely in order for their message to get across.

“Are you just going to stare at them or are you going to go up and say hi?” Louis asked.

I blinked owlishly at Louis while Ava looked skeptical. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I should go up and say something to Liam. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t a bad idea. Liam and I did leave off on good terms and said we wanted to stay friends, though it was easier said than done. The last time I’d spoken to Liam was three weeks ago regarding some undergarments of mine that were still at his place which he wanted to return. After that, the only interaction we had was him liking a Facebook post of mine. If I went up to him now to say hi, it would the perfect we just broke up, but we’re friends gesture.

“Don’t be silly,” Ava said. “Mara can’t go up there. He’s with that girl.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Weren’t you the one that said I shouldn’t worry about it?”

“I said you shouldn’t worry about it, yes, because Liam doesn’t concern you anymore. Or at least he shouldn’t. Going up there now would just be awkward.”

“I don’t think so,” Louis said.

“Neither do I,” I responded, standing up and picking up my purse. “I’ll be right back.”

Ava widened her eyes at me. “You’re serious? You’re going to go over to him?”

“Yes,” I said with a nonchalant shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen? Plus, it’d be awkward if I didn’t. We’re both here with our friends, it’s a chill night. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

I couldn’t tell if I was trying to convince Ava or myself, but I promptly turned around and headed over to Liam’s booth. I walked faster than I usually would because I could feel myself psyching out. Just as I approached them, Liam and Penelope slid out of their booths, most likely headed to the bar. That was when Liam noticed me and his eyes widened in surprise.

I smiled brightly, giving a small, tentative wave. “Hey,” I said.

“Oh, Mara,” he said. “Wow, hey.” He leaned closer, wrapping one arm around me in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I came out with Ava and Louis. I saw you come in, so I figured I’d say hi.”

Liam laughed good naturedly, but his eyes didn’t crinkle like they usually did. It was his fake, nervous laugh, which made me suspicious. I turned to look at Penelope, who hadn’t said anything since I got here. She smiled softly when our eyes might. “Hey Mara,” she said. “Long time, no see.”

“It has been a while,” I responded. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” she said. “And you?”

“Same. Just working, you know?”

She nodded a few times before turning to Liam. “I’ll go get us our drinks.”

“Sounds good,” Liam responded. Penelope quickly took her exit and left me and Liam. I looked at him and moved a little closer.

“How are you?” I asked him, tone a little more serious and earnest. “You -- uh, you look good.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling shyly as his cheeks turned a bit red. “You do, too.”

“How’s your dad been?” I asked then. During the time of our breakup, Liam’s dad was feeling a bit ill. After running tests, they discovered he was diabetic, so Liam was constantly worrying and I knew it was all stressing him out.

“He’s better, thank you for asking. He’s got his blood sugar level in control now and we’re taking it day by day.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, gripping onto my drink and clutch, while I really just wanted to drop both and hold Liam’s hand instead. Everything about him looked familiar; his smell, his shirt which he bought with me just a few months ago, and his sweet smile. I wanted him to pull me closer and take me back to his apartment so that we could talk all night and make out until we fell asleep. It just sucked that it wasn’t that easy to do any of that anymore. It was one of the things I had most difficulty with when we broke up. One minute I was with Liam and we did everything together -- ate, slept, talked, ran errands -- and the next, we just stopped. A few simple words just ended a relationship that was once full of love, which I strongly believed was still there.

When I felt my emotions running a mile a minute, memories of Liam and me filling my mind, I blurted out the first thing on my mind. “I miss you.”

Liam looked visibly shocked and taken aback by my honesty. His eyes went from a mixture of surprise to something sad. “Mara,” he said slowly, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t just --”

“But I do,” I insisted. Liam’s hand felt so warm and it was slightly distracting, making my heart start to race in my chest. “I do miss you, Liam. I know we broke up, but it’s been so hard.”

“I know that,” he said, a frown between his brows. “I miss you, too, but you do realize why we broke up, though, right?”

“Because we were fighting,” I said. “I know. But can’t we just grab a coffee sometime and talk about it again?”

Liam looked at me and if I wasn’t mistaken, it almost looked like he was pitying me. “Mara, you know I loved you and have love for you. What we had meant a lot to me, but I can’t do that. Breaking up was the right thing to do because we just weren’t working.”

“We did work, Liam,” I said. “You know we did. We were so happy in college.”

“We’re not in college anymore.”

“Does that change what we meant to each other?”

“It doesn’t change what we used to mean to each other, but it changes who we are to each other now,” he said, his expression softening. I hated it. “I didn’t want to believe it at first, either, but it’s true. This break...it’s been good for me. I got my head back in the right place and I’ve...I’ve sort of started seeing someone else. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you. Penny and I -- we’ve really hit off. She was there for me when we broke up and things have really progressed with us.”

The first thing that popped in my head was who the fuck was Penny? Then it hit me that that was Liam’s nickname for Penelope. After that, it started to dawn on me what Liam had just said.

Penelope and Liam were dating, and everything that I’d worried about all day was actually true.

I didn’t know who to be angry at first. Liam, for jumping into a relationship a month after we broke off our three year relationship, or Penelope, for swooping in and being a shoulder to cry on for Liam only to pull him into a relationship of their own. What an opportunistic tramp. I bet she had been waiting to do that even while he and I were still together. I felt betrayed, played, and more than that, I felt embarrassed. Embarrassed that I’d ever thought it was a good idea to come up here to say hi to Liam and, apparently, his stupid new girlfriend. My stomach was turning and my face was burning from embarrassment while Liam looked at me helplessly. I racked my brain to figure out a way to walk away from him with some of my dignity still intact and before Penelope walked her conniving little ass back here.

Before I could say anything, though, Liam spoke up again. “I’m really sorry for telling you like this, but since you’d brought it up, I just thought --”

“It’s fine,” I quickly said, interrupting him. Liam’s eyes were concerned and sad, which made me even more embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s all super fine. I’m sorry I came up here and said all this. I’m just -- I’m so drunk.”

“You are?” Liam asked softly.

I nodded my head a few times, making sure to be sloppy about it. “Had a few shots and stuff. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. I’m happy for you. I promise.”

Liam looked at a loss for words and I knew that he was wondering if he should believe me or not. I knew Liam well, given our history, but that all seemed pretty useless now. I could know a person and suddenly, I had to try and forget them because they decided to choose someone else to get to know them now, instead. Life was so fucking weird.

“So, it was nice chatting,” I said, giving Liam an all teeth baring smile. “I’m going to go head back to my booth now.”

“Oh, alright,” Liam said, still seeming unsure. “I’ll see you around. We can still meet up sometime and talk if you’d like.”

Unlikely, I thought to myself. “Sure,” I said out loud. “That sounds great. Have a good night.”

“You, too.” I smiled at Liam one last time before making my way back to my booth. Ava and Louis both looked up when I got there and just as I sat down, a guy I hadn’t seen before brought a tray of shots.

“How’d the talk go?” Ava asked.

I picked up two shots in response, downing them both, one after another. Ava gave me a knowing look and her expression fell in pity. I turned away from her, downing my PBR as well.

And that was the last thing I remembered from the night.



The sound of blinds being pushed aside woke me up the following morning. I blinked slowly, glaring at Ava as she stood in front of our window in nothing but a pair of blue shorts and bra. She had a cup of coffee in her hand, studying the traffic outside.

“Close that shit,” I groaned, rolling over on the couch where I realized I’d probably spent the night. I hated passing out on the couch because it gave me a bad back, but now that I was here, I figured I’d might as well live with it and get some more sleep because I was deathly hungover. Suddenly, I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to sleep in. I was supposed to have an alarm set to wake me up at seven sharp. I scrambled around on the couch, sitting up, and feeling sharp pain in my head, making me wince.

Ava turned around and faced me. “Relax. Your alarm set off only five minutes ago and I’ve already got your coffee and breakfast ready. Just hop in the shower and get dressed. You have work in a few.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God for giving me such an incredible best friend and roommate. Getting up off the couch, I quickly made my way into the shower and skipped the shampoo routine, instead just rubbed the sleep off of me before getting out. I slipped into a pair of jeans and a dress shirt. Work attire was business casual, which made this process a lot easier.

When I got back to the kitchen, Ava was still working on her coffee and texting on her phone. She worked as an assistant for this low key designer and had extremely flexible hours, which I was envious of every morning when I left our apartment at eight o’clock on the dot. I reached for my toast and eggs, taking a huge bite before quickly taking a gulp of my coffee.

“You’re the best,” I said to Ava. “Thank you.”

Ava smiled, “Of course. I know you’d do the same for me.”

“You know I would,” I said before biting my lip nervously. “On a scale of one to ten, how drunk did I get last night?  It all seems very hazy when I think about it.”

Ava hesitated in answering, her eyes darting around our kitchen. I didn’t take it as a good sign. “You passed out at some point and Louis and I had to carry you out of Avalon.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry. What else happened?”

“Do you really want to know?” Ava asked, her brows furrowing.

“Oh my God, you’re scaring me. What did I do?”

“Well, after you started drinking, you just kept telling everyone who came by our booth what happened with you and Liam. You were extremely upset about him and Penelope, which by the way, I can’t fucking believe he did that.”

“I know!” I said, groaning. “I honestly wanted to throttle them both!”

“I would have supported that.”

“Okay, so that’s it? I was just unloading my pathetic love life to strangers?”

Ava hesitated once again and shook her head. “You got out of the booth at some point and walked over to Liam and Penelope.”

“No,” I cried, eyes widening.

Ava nodded her head sadly. “You yelled at them for a good five minutes about how fake and horrible they are. Louis and I eventually got you to stop and we called a cab to go home. You were crying hysterically the entire way. Louis’ shirt is covered with your mascara.”

I blinked at the space beside Ava’s head, zoning out and wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me in. As if yesterday couldn’t have gone worse, I had to go and do that. I could kiss any chance being Liam’s friend and seeing him again goodbye. Forget getting back together -- I’d be lucky if he even spoke to me at this point. Suddenly, I was thankful I had no recollection about what happened last night, because if I remembered the dumb shit I did, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. However, that didn’t make the situation any better because I knew I did something.

Shit.

Ava gave me a meek, pitying smile. “It’s fine. It’s over. People black out all the time. Just,” she paused for a moment. “I guess this was the push you needed to get over Liam.”

“Maybe,” I said to her. I wasn’t quite sure if I believed myself, but what other choice did I have?



“I’m fired?”

The words left my mouth in a half screech and half whisper, partially because we were in an office and also because I could not fucking believe it. My supervisor, Abigail, looked at me as calmly as she could, her eyes nervous, awkward, and twitchy, while her lips were pressed in a thin line.

“Mara,” she said softly, her voice meant to be calming, but only seeming polarizing. “It’s really not up to us. It was the head office downtown that made this decision. With the way the sales have been going, the CEO decided that we needed a smaller, tight knit group so that we could figure out the company and what we need to do to sell more. Downsizing was never an option we thought we’d have to take, otherwise, you know we’d still love to have you.”  

“But why me?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Why did they choose me to downsize? Was I not doing something right?”

“Of course not,” Abigail denied. “You have done nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve really helped us.”

“Then why am I being fired?”

Abigail’s eyes softened furthermore, if that were possible. She was looking at me with pity in her eyes, the same way Liam had last night and the same way Ava did this morning. It was starting to become ridiculous and downright pathetic. I just couldn’t believe that I was being fired. I’d done everything Abigail had ever asked me to do, except ten times better. I was a star employee on steroids. I showed up to work on time, I behaved professionally, and I got everything done.

“This was really hard for me to do, Mara,” Abigail continued. “But our company has been struggling, which I’m sure you know. This naturally means we have to manage budget and provide fewer jobs.”

“So I’m actually fired?” I asked once again, my voice now a hoarse whisper. I could feel tears forming in my eyes, but I really didn’t want to cry because I had a raging headache already from all the drinking I’d done last night.

“I would hate to call it being fired,” Abigail replied. “Think of it as...us managing you out.”

“That’s still firing me,” I whimpered, finally letting go and crying.

Abigail stared at me awkwardly from behind her desk, probably wondering if she should comfort me or not, but I really didn’t want her to. I was pissed. I’d only been at work for a few minutes when she’d called me in to break the news to me. I wish I’d never listened or come today in at all. I should have just called in sick. Before Abigail could say anything more, I stood up and walked back to my desk. I stared at all the pictures and art prints that I’d pinned in my cubicle, my cat figurine pencil case, and my small potted plant that I watered everyday at work.

Guess it was time to pack it all up.



After one of the most humiliating nights of my life as well as the day I became unemployed, I didn’t think I could hit rock bottom any harder, but I was proven wrong.

With all that had happened, I sought comfort on my couch with my favorite blanket wrapped around me and smelling like my tears. I ordered endless amounts of pizza and Chinese food, indulging myself because I felt like I deserved it. I binge watched Gossip Girl on Netflix, throwing myself into the lives and problems of fictional rich characters in New York City because it was easier to do that than try to find solutions to my own problems.

I was not only jobless and soon to be broke with my rent coming up in a few days, but I was also holding out feelings for a boy who had moved on. The thing was, he didn’t move on to just any other girl. He moved on with the best friend and everyone on this planet who had watched a romantic comedy knew that the best friend was always the one who got the guy. So where did that leave me, the girl he’d been with for three years? Nowhere, apparently.

I never wanted to be the girl who felt bad for herself and just gave up, but with all the pitying looks I’d been receiving lately, I realized they weren’t that far off.

However, no matter how bad I felt about my current state, I didn’t do anything to change it. I continued to spend my days and nights on that same couch while Ava took off to work or a date with Louis. And every time she left or entered the flat, seeing me in that same spot, I couldn’t tell if it was sympathy that flashed across her face or irritation because she never said anything. She was obviously upset that I lost my job only hours after I found out my ex moved on, but other than that, there was nothing from her.

Then again, it didn’t really surprise me. Ava was like that -- unable to express emotion when she saw other people going through something. It wasn’t that she was heartless, she just didn’t know how to comfort someone. She froze up and just let the other person deal with it on their own. I’d found it strange when we first became friends. If I ever went to her, crying or angry about something, she’d just sit there, listen, and not really say anything. She would also not bring it up and ask if I was okay. She would let me come to her, but her reactions were scarce. I learned to deal with that, but what did irritate me often was if we ever had a fight, she would never be the one to approach me. I would always have to go and make the first move even if it was her fault. She’d told me it was because she was giving me space to cool off, but I didn’t want that. I wanted her to be the one to apologize and come to me first for once.

So I couldn’t really tell what was going through her mind until she sat beside me that Saturday. It was her day off and as far as I knew, she had no plans with Louis. I smiled at her, my face probably puffy from all the crying and sleeping I’d been doing. She smiled back, though, it looked a little wary.

“Want to watch season four of Gossip Girl?” I asked her. “Serena’s having an affair with her professor. Reminds me of Tally Schafer from our English Lit seminar sophomore year.”

Ava laughed. “Oh my God. She was such a little tart, showing up to class with her plaid skirts and shirts unbuttoned to show her rack. I remember her telling me she did it mostly for the grade.”

“Maybe I should have done the same because that professor gave me a B.”

“Ew, he was old, though,” Ava wrinkled her nose, laughing again. “And no thanks. I’m not really in the mood to watch anything. I was actually hoping to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

Ava hesitated for a moment before looking at me. Her expression was unreadable and I was starting to get nervous. “You know it’s the end of the month, right?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, still confused as to where she was going with this. “Haven’t really been paying attention to the date to be honest with you.”

“Rent’s due in, like, three days, Mara,” Ava said, like she was ripping off a bandaid. “I’ve got my half ready and I wanted to know if you had your half ready.”

“That’s why you came here to sit with me?” I asked. Ava nodded slowly, like she wasn’t sure if it was trick question or not. I scoffed, sitting up and facing her. “I don’t even know where to begin with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I’ve had the worst fucking week of my life and you don’t fucking ask me anything about how I’m doing -- not now or not once in the past few days. And the one day you do decide to sit with me and give me some time, you ask me about the fucking rent when you know I just lost my fucking job.”

“Everyone has bad days, Mara,” Ava argued back. “That doesn’t mean we all become bums and don’t do anything to fix the situation.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice growing higher in pitch at the audacity of what Ava just said. “You think I’m a bum?”

“You sure as hell have been acting like one. You only get up to get food and pee. Have you even showered?”

I groaned out loud, getting up off the couch, only to face Ava with my arms crossed over my chest. I prayed to God she didn’t see the soy sauce stain below my left boob on my YMCA shirt, or the tomato sauce stain on my old gym sweats from high school. “I can’t believe you would be so mean. Like, I always knew you weren’t all that open with your emotions or whatever, but I didn’t think you’d be mean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mara. I’m not being mean. I’m trying to look out for myself -- for us -- so that we don’t kicked out for not having rent.”

“It’s not about the rent. It’s about you being insensitive. I just lost the love of my life for good, and I lost my job. I have so much going on and you’re giving me shit for wallowing and taking time for myself.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “I understand a day or two, but you have straight up been on this couch for a whole week. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so everything’s closed. If you’d taken the time to apply for more jobs over the past week, then you’d have some responses by the day after. You didn’t even do that. What are your plans at this point, anyway?”

I gaped at her -- this girl, who was supposedly my best friend -- and wondered if I’d been wrong about her like I’d clearly been wrong about everything else in my life. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in and everything was crumbling beneath me. My lips trembled and I felt so lost. I felt truly and completely alone because not even Ava was understanding. She was calling me out for not getting my shit together after everything I’d had was snatched away from me.

I knew then that I couldn’t stay. I did not want to stay. I had no idea what I was going to do in terms of a job, I couldn’t think about Liam without my heart breaking, and I didn’t recognize the girl sitting in front of me.

“You’ll have my half of the rent by the end of the day, but I’m moving out,” I said, my voice barely making it without cracking.

“Mara,” Ava cried, standing up in shock. “Are you joking?”

I shook my head resolutely. “Absolutely not. I clearly can’t afford to live here anymore without a job, and with college debt knocking on my door, I’m going to need whatever bit of savings I have. Find a new roommate.”

“Now who’s being mean?” Ava snapped. “You’re making a mountain out of mole hole. All I asked was for the rent.”

“You called me a bum and told me to get my shit together. Do you not realize how hurtful that is to me right now?” Before she could answer, I put up a hand to stop her. “Don’t bother trying to argue because I know that you don’t. I’m packing my shit and getting out.”

As I grabbed my stuff off the couch and retreated to my bedroom, Ava shouted from behind me, “Fine. Be that way!”

I scoffed to myself, rolling my eyes at her immaturity and lack of owning up to the fact that she was a complete and utter bitch. As I grabbed all my bags and started packing my stuff in fury, it started to dawn on me that I had nowhere else to go. Could I crash on another friend’s couch? All my friends were also friends with Ava and I wasn’t sure if that’d be a good idea to put them in the middle of this. I also didn’t want to embarrass myself and tell them about what had happened to me, especially not about Liam. But where else could I go?

In the end, my hands worked according to their own, and pressed on my dad’s number. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, sweetheart. You doing alright?” he asked.

I sighed heavily, sitting down on a heap of my clothes on my bed. “Not really. I just had a fight with Ava and I decided to move out.”

I could see my dad’s concerned expression all the way from here. He and my mom always tended to worry about me even though they were only an hour away. It was probably a parent thing, but it must be worse when your child called you and told you they were technically homeless at the moment.

“Well, why did you two have a fight?” he asked.

I’d told them from before what had happened regarding my job, but left out the bit about Liam, simply because I was embarrassed. “It’s a long story, but I’m going to give her my half of the rent tonight. After that, whatever bit I do have won’t be enough to pay rent and college debt at the same time, so I told her I was moving out.” My voice shook as I continued. “And now I just -- I don’t know what to do or where to go. I feel so lost right now.”

“Oh, honey,” Dad breathed out. “You should just come home.”

“Come home?” I sniffled in confusion, tears trailing down my cheeks.

“Yes,” he insisted. “Come here for a while and figure out what you need to and we’ll work it from there. I’m assuming you don’t have a place to go?”

“I don’t, no,” I replied, wiping at my eyes.

“Then it’s decided,” he said. “I’ll be over shortly and we’ll get you out of there.”

Once Dad hung up the phone, I stared down at my floor for a little while. Through all this, I’d never expected this to be the outcome. But it looked like I was going back to Laguna Beach.



Laguna Beach hadn’t changed at all.

As my dad drove our family van full of my clothes and other belongings while a moving truck trailed behind with whatever furniture I had, I couldn’t help but feel like moving back might not have been the best decision. However, I knew that changing my mind at this point would piss off a lot of people. My dad, for one, who helped me pack everything up while Mom fixed up my living arrangements at home. And the moving guy, who had to lug my bedroom set and old couch down three flights of stairs.

Even after that, there were still a lot of my things back at the apartment that I hadn’t had space or time to pack. She told me I could keep them there for now in our storage closet and a part of me felt like she only said that because she probably felt bad for being such a bitch to me. But even if she had, she didn’t apologize, so I wasn’t going to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Plus, I would like to think it was because of her that I had to end up in Laguna Beach of all places. No one ever came back to their hometown after having made it somewhere bigger and better. If they did, it meant that they were a washed-up-has-been and didn’t have anywhere else to go. Although, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe I had become one. I had no job, no boyfriend, and no place of my own. So I definitely fit the bill.

It made me sick to my stomach thinking about it because I was one of those girls. The one who every other girl would be jealous of because she had her shit figured out. I was the girl that had everything going for her and had it all down to a plan. I was the one with a hot, accomplished boyfriend, a fun best friend, a beautiful apartment, and a great job.

Now I had literally nothing except some spare cash and great parents, who were willing to let their post-grad child move back.

Dad pulled into our driveway, smiling over at me. “We’re here,” he said.

I attempted to give him a smile back, but I wasn’t sure how convinced my dad was. We climbed out of the car together and Dad walked over to the moving truck guy, who was parked by the curb. They were going to keep all my furniture in the shed in the backyard for now given that I was going to move out as soon as I found myself a place. I didn’t even want to think about how long that would take me. LA wasn’t cheap, so I needed a roommate, though I had no idea where to start looking for one.

Shaking off all those thoughts, I walked up the front steps, and opened the front door, which was almost always unlocked. I was eager to see my mom as I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks.

“Mom,” I called out, walking through the rooms, and searching for the familiar blond head of hair that had been passed on to me.

Growing up, our house had never really changed -- not physically nor with how it was decorated. It wasn’t because my parents were outdated, but because my mom had always had this picture in her mind of how she wanted her home to look like ever since she was a little girl. So that was exactly what she did and kept it as is for all these years. Just like her, I had similar visions, but they were mostly of a gorgeous loft in some high rise building in LA that overlooked the city. That was probably where my mom and I stopped in comparison. She liked the quiet life in Laguna with the pool in the backyard, the cobblestone steps leading into our home, and the wide open windows that outlooked the beach.

I hadn’t resented growing up in Laguna, even if I was sort of upset about coming back. Laguna Beach was a good home to grow up in. It had the substances of being in a suburban area, but it was also modern in its own sense. I had great friends, a great environment, and I thoroughly enjoyed my time here.

After walking through the living room and dining room, I finally found Mom walking up the steps from the basement. Our basement was our rec room. We had games, a workout room, and a giant television set up with a big futon in front of it.

“Hey,” I said, giving her a hug.

“Aw, honey,” she cooed, rubbing my back affectionately. “You doing alright?”

I gave her a half-hearted shrug. “Been better. I’m just really exhausted.”

“Well, I’ve got dinner going in the oven. I made the grilled chicken you like. The one with the special sauce.”

“Sounds great, Mom,” I replied, realizing that I was a bit hungry. Moving really drained me out. After Dad walked back in, having handled the moving people, the three of us had dinner. It was mostly chit chat between my parents as I wasn’t really in the mood to talk. Something about the family down the street and how good their block party was last week and then something about some new family moving in down the road. Laguna was a close knit community and given everyone’s friendly, chilled out personalities, it was expected of everyone to know each other to some degree.

While the two went back and forth, I quickly finished my dinner and asked to be excused to head to my room. That was when they both turned to me, sending me the same look I had seen too many times in the past week. Immediately I wanted to just have the ground swallow me up again because I was not in the mood for one more thing to go wrong.

“Sweetheart,” Mom began, standing up from her chair. “The thing is -- we’re sort of using your room.”

“You’re using my room?” I asked, confused.

She nodded her head, looking rather guilty. “You remember how I called you and told you we had termites in the attic?” I nodded my head slowly, only because I really couldn’t remember, but she didn’t need to know that. I had been slightly distracted the past few weeks and was only half tuned in to our conversations when she called. “Well, we had to move everything out to your room, and we haven’t been able to get anyone on the job for a while.”

I frowned at her, not out of anger but out of confusion; wasn’t it bad to leave termites lingering in your home? It would eat away at the foundation and the house could collapse any moment if they didn’t hurry. It seemed as though I would have to be the one to find someone to fix the problem for us, not only to get my room back, but so that we all weren't homeless at the end of the day.

“Alright, so then where am I sleeping?” I asked her.

It was so pathetic. I didn't even have a place of my own in my parents’ house. Once I’d moved out for college, I had done it with the intention of moving out for good. They didn’t owe me a bedroom here anymore, I supposed.

“We’ve set up the basement for you. The futon is already done out in a bed and I put your favorite sheets and duvet down there with all your pillows,” Mom offered, clearly trying to butter me up.

“And I put all your bags down there, too,” Dad added. “Until we figure out the attic situation, the basement is all yours, hon.”

The basement. I was being resorted to the basement. Sure it was one of the nicer parts of the house, but that wasn’t the point. Regardless, I gave my parents a tired smile and bid them goodnight before making my way down. Sure enough, all my bags and things were down there. Mom had even gotten me my little lamp from my room and placed it on a side table in case I needed it. I smiled for what felt like the first time in that long day and changed into my softest pajamas. They were ones that I’d deemed too embarrassing to take to LA, pink cotton with flying pigs on them, and finally got under the covers.

It felt like all the remaining energy I had left in me slowly seeped away and I was out like light.



I could hear the distinct sound of a motor running and frowned into my pillow because the more I became conscious, the louder it became. When I eventually, reluctantly, and unfortunately opened my eyes, it felt like whatever was making the noise was right next to my ear. I’d been having such a good sleep, too. It was the first time in a while that didn’t feel restless or incomplete.

It might have had a lot to do with how I felt safe with my parents right upstairs, but I was pissed now because some annoying fucking noise woke me up. I peeked around the otherwise dark room and realized the noise was coming from outside the small window, illuminating a bit of sunlight, on the other side of the room. What the fuck was it?  

As I tried closing my eyes and going back to sleep, it continued to run, and at some point I had to look over at the clock on the wall to see what time it was. When I saw it was only a quarter past seven in the morning, I grumbled and got up, marching up the basement steps. Mom and Dad weren’t anywhere nearby when I walked into the kitchen, probably still in bed considering it was fucking Sunday. I made my way to the front door and wrenched it open before stepping down the porch steps.

That was when I saw the culprit for the noise -- or rather the machine that was making it and who was making it.

It was some long haired, Malibu wannabe guy and his stupid lawn mower. What the hell was going through his mind that he thought, hmm, today would be a great day to mow my lawn at seven fucking AM. I crossed my arms and marched up to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He glanced back for only a moment before turning back around to switch off the lawn mower. He annoyingly had headphones in and when he eventually turned to look at me, I stepped back, slightly surprised.

I obviously couldn’t tell who it was from behind what with the new, long hair, but I couldn’t forget Harry Styles and his annoying face no matter how much I wanted to. We went way back, unfortunately. Back when we were in diapers, and our parents were friends since we all lived in the same block, and took pictures of us when we took baths together as babies. It was embarrassing and there were a few failed occasions when I’d tried to burn them.  

Reason being was that Harry was a dick. He’d been an annoying little dick since we were in elementary school. Before that, I hadn’t thought much about him, other than that he was fun to play with in the playground when our parents took us together, but once we began second grade, he was just so mean. He made fun of me and my last name -- constantly referring to the Dr. Seuss book -- threw spitballs at me, and even tugged on my pigtails when I wasn’t looking before running off and cackling like the evil spawn of Satan he was. I did my best in avoiding him as we grew up, but he was obviously still there in the background through middle school, immature and taunting with his unruly curly hair. The annoying torture he’d put me through ceased once we got to high school and it was mostly because cliques became a thing. He was a part of his and I was a part of mine.

What surprised me more than the fact that he was mowing on a Sunday morning (it was Harry Styles, he’d always been annoying like that) was that he was still here -- in Laguna. Almost everyone I knew from school had moved away, so what was he still doing here? Then again I was back and situations could be different for everyone.

“Horton?” Harry said, smiling as he cocked his head to the side. I flinched as he used my last name in that same tone he always used to. “What are you doing here?”

“The question here is what are you doing?” I asked him, putting on my most intimidating face. “It’s seven in the morning on a Sunday. Why are you trying to kill everyone's sleep?”

Harry laughed, like he was fucking delighted by me and what I’d just said. “I mow my lawn every Sunday.” He paused for a moment, taking in my pink pajamas, before meeting my frown. “No one has complained before you, though.”

Every Sunday. Every Sunday I was going to have to endure this? I was going to have to look into a new life plan quickly because I refused. It would be the wakeup call from hell times two because it was Harry fucking Styles causing it. Harry was still smiling at me, a soft frown between his own brows, probably wondering why I was back here in town.

“Just turn that thing off and try again during normal hours. People are trying to sleep,” I told him, turning around to walk back inside the house. When I was about to close the door, I found Harry still looking back over at me. There was a curious smile on his face and it grew when he saw me looking back, giving me a wave back.

I shut the door in response.