6. Laila
Laila
“What are you over there smiling about?” Zara asks, standing in the doorway to my room.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly.
I close the message that I had been reading from Sonny and look at Zara.
I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t believe me, but she lets me have it and doesn’t push for more information.
Sonny and I have been talking back and forth for a few days now.
There are often long stretches in between replies and we’ve moved from DMs to texting directly but it's been consistent. But talking to him hasn’t been something that I’m ready to share with anyone quite yet.
Zara knows about the first time I ran into Sonny, I spilled everything to her in our college apartment over greasy burgers and fries when we both got home after the concert.
We speculated and analyzed every little thing that I could remember about the interaction, but ultimately I decided to chalk it up to just a random run in and go on about my life.
And that had been going just fine for me, until I ran into him again.
The odds of me running into Sonny the first time?
Dismal. The odds of me running into Sonny again and him wanting to exchange information that subsequently leads to us talking back and forth for days?
It should be nonexistent, but here the fuck I am.
I haven’t told her anything about what’s happened recently between me and Sonny.
Me and Sonny?
No.
There is no me and Sonny .
I haven’t told her about running into Sonny and talking to him, mainly because I know that she’ll put more weight into it than I want to at this moment.
She’ll see it as a sign, some sort of divine intervention bringing us together or something, and I just don’t want that right now.
I don’t have time for that right now and it's only been a few months since… Devin.
I inwardly cringe at even the thought of him and decide to push all those thoughts away and instead focus on Zara.
“A better question is what kept you out all night, hmm?” I ask, turning the attention back on her instead of me.
“Nolan came to see me at the shop and we went back to his place.”
“Is that the chef?”
“Nooo,” Zara replies, shaking her head. “That’s Aaron, Nolan is the surgeon. The one I went to San Diego with last summer.”
“Ohhh right, I forgot about him.”
Zara’s roster of men is always impeccable.
She makes it very clear that she doesn’t want anything serious, that they will never be “boyfriend and girlfriend” and that she’s just there for a good time.
And every so often guys will fall off the roster leaving space for a new man.
It's truly amazing to see in person and I love it for her because she’s totally content with it.
“What are your plans for the day?” Zara asks.
I take an Oreo out of the package that’s sitting next to me in my bed and use it to gesture to the TV. “You’re looking at it.”
“Orrrr,” Zara starts.
I groan, knowing that whatever Zara is about to say involves real clothes and leaving this apartment.
“We could go out.”
“Or we could not and I can keep watching my show,” I reply.
“Please, it’ll be fun! And we haven’t gone out together in forever.”
“You know what’s also fun, staying warm in my bed and watching my show.”
“Ha ha,” Zara replies, sarcastically. “This is like your fiftieth rewatch of this show, it will be here tomorrow.”
“Where do you even want to go?”
“Tristan invited me to the soft opening of his lounge tonight and told me to bring a friend.”
I lay back against my pillows and sigh. “I don’t even have anything to wear.”
“Liar, I can think of at least four outfits that you can wear. So next excuse.”
Zara looks at me with raised eyebrows and crosses her arms, waiting for my next rebuttal.
But I don’t have one because she’s right, we haven’t gone out together in a while.
I have been so wrapped up with work and then the holidays and more work because of the holidays. Maybe a night out is what I need.
“Fine, I'll go.”
“Perfect!”
Zara climbs out of my bed and goes over to my closet, shuffling through my hangers.
“What are we thinking? Skirt? Dress? Oooo this is cute.”
Zara holds up a silver mini dress.
“If you’re forcing me to go out, I at least want to wear pants. It’s cold as hell outside.”
“Force is such a negative word,” Z replies. “I’m helping you get out of the house to have some fun.”
Zara keeps going through my clothes until she pulls out another hanger with a pair of black leather pants that I’ve never worn. She takes them off the hanger and tosses them on the bed next to me. “Here, pants.”
I groan again because I really don’t want to go but I stand up, leaving the warmth and coziness of my bed behind.
I walk to my bathroom, turning on the light as I enter.
My hair has been pulled up into a bun on the top of my head all day.
I pull the scrunchie from my hair and let my curls fall loose down my back.
Zara’s bathroom has always been our unofficial get ready together place so I grab my makeup bag and hair products to go in there.
When we moved into this place, we decided she could have the primary bedroom and ensuite so her bathroom is slightly bigger with way more counter space.
Zara follows me into the bathroom and connects her phone to the speaker, selecting a playlist to hype us up while we do our hair and makeup.
Getting ready does lift my mood. Singing along to songs I love with my best friend while making myself feel pretty will always do it for me.
Even when my eyeliner decides to look like cousins on their daddy’s side instead of sisters.
With one last swipe of lip gloss, I step back from the mirror satisfied with my look.
My makeup is light, mainly concealer and a soft eyeshadow look.
My curls are refreshed and I just leave my hair down.
It's been a few days since wash day so I have all the volume but I’m not mad at it.
I pack my things back up to take them back to my own room.
Zara is still working on her hair, adding more gel to try to get her short, platinum blonde hair to lay flat in finger waves.
She bleached it our freshman year of college and has been platinum blonde ever since, a color that suits her well.
In my room, I put all my products away and change into my outfit for the night.
I do wear the leather pants and pair it with a white corset top and strappy heels that I will for sure regret by the end of the night.
I walk out of my room and see Zara pulling out two shot glasses to go along with the bottle of liquor from our bar cart that she’s already placed on the counter.
In college, Zara and I would always pregame with at least one shot, a ritual that we have continued on even now.
She pours up for both of us and slides mine towards me. We raise our glasses to each other, clinking them together before we down them, the burn of the alcohol causing me to cringe as it goes down.
Zara puts her heels on and while we wait for the ride share we ordered we take pictures together. Some on our phones and some with my polaroid until we’re both satisfied. My phone pings with the notification that our driver is approaching.
“One more for the road?” Zara asks, eyebrows raised.
Fuck it, why not.
I pick up my abandoned shot glass for her to fill up again.
“Yesss,” Zara replies, pouring us up again.
We take the shots quickly and then grab our things to head out the door.
***
There’s a small line outside of Oasis when we step out of our rideshare but Zara doesn’t pay it any mind and walks directly up to security at the door and I follow behind her.
I can hear some slight mumbles from some upset people in line but I don’t pay them any mind.
The guy at the door hands IDs back to two girls and steps aside to let them in the building and then turns his attention to us.
“Zara, you know you’re supposed to wait in line like everybody else,” the man says, his voice gruff and a little annoyed.
“And why would I do that when I’m not like everybody else?”
“Your ass stay trying to get me in trouble. Go ahead,” he replies, motioning towards the door.
“Thank you,” Zara says with a sweet smile.
The lights are down low inside Oasis and there’s a slight haze in the air. It’s busy with people at the bar and others sitting in the various seats around the space, but I can tell it’s only a fraction of what it will be on future Saturday nights.
“You want to do a lap to find seats and then I’ll get us drinks?” Zara yells over the music, into my ear.
I nod my head and she takes my hand, leading me so we don’t get separated. We weave through the tables around people standing and talking until we find an open loveseat near the back of the room.
“What do you want?” Zara asks.
“Just get me whatever you’re having,” I reply, sitting down in the middle of the seat so no one will sit next to me while Zara is gone.
She nods before she turns on her heel to go to the bar.
I relax back into my seat and take in the space and people around me. The music is louder than background noise but it doesn’t stop people from talking with each other. Stepping close to speak into each other’s ear or just talking louder to be heard over the music.
“I’m glad she got you to come out.”
I jump slightly at the sound of someone’s voice next to me. I look up and to my left and see Tristan.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says,
“It’s okay,” I say and stand to give him a hug.
I sit down again and Tristan takes a seat on the arm of the loveseat.
“Zara said she was going to get you to come out tonight, but I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to convince you,” Tristan says.
Tristan and Zara go out together quite frequently while I usually opt to stay in.
They met in high school, both going to an ultra exclusive private school.
Zara’s parents had certain expectations and ideals for what her life would look like, including her schooling.
She hated the school but she and Tristan became good friends while she was there.
They were thick as thieves, so much so that they almost got expelled together for underage drinking in the dorms. But someone’s father paid a hefty donation and everything was swept under the rug.
“She almost didn’t,” I reply with a laugh. “But I’m glad I came. The place is really nice.”
“Thank you. It turned out well so I can’t complain.”
Zara appears with two martini glasses and hands one of them off to me before she sits down. I take a sip, my taste buds hit first with the sweetness of the mixer and then the sting of the liquor.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you down here,” Zara says to Tristan.
“I just came down to check in with everything.”
“Don’t you have people for that?” Zara asks.
“I do, but I like to be hands on at first, make sure I know the ins and outs of what's going on before I step away.”
Tristan stands and holds his hand out to me. “Come on, no reason for y’all to be down here. I have a spot for you upstairs.”