Chapter 2
“You seem better than I expected.” My best friend’s voice crept into my ear. She was sitting on the edge of my bed, brushing her signature unruly red hair, trying to smooth it into some version of order.
Cherry’s hair was the kind of red that never softened. Bold, deliberate, impossible to ignore. It framed her pale skin and sharp features, bangs skimming her eyes like she was always mid-thought. She brushed it slowly, not because it helped, but because it gave her hands something to do.
“You know,” she continued, “considering it’s only been a week since Holden was in the hospital again. I remember the first time he overdosed, you were a mess for months.”
I tilted my head at her, trying to block out the image that always rose when I let myself think about that night. Holden on his bedroom floor. Skin pale. Chest barely moving. She was right. I was a shell for a long time.
“That was the fifth time he’s overdosed,” I reminded her. “Five fucking times.”
Cherry pursed her lips. “Damn, Holden.”
A small laugh escaped me. Sad. Tragic. “That’s what I said when I found him.”
“How did you know where to find him, anyway? He’s been clean for months,” Cherry asked, turning away from me to face the vanity mirror instead. She grazed her fingers across my makeup without even asking. That was Cherry—wildly and unapologetically forward in all things.
“I just had a feeling,” I muttered, frowning as the memory surfaced.
It had started like any other Friday night. I was home. In my room. My laptop open to Netflix, shamelessly binging some throwaway show, like I always did on the weekends. It was normal. Until it wasn’t.
The feeling started small, a dull itch below the skin.
I tried to ignore it. It grew, minute by minute, until it hollowed out my chest and left nothing but anxiety in its place.
I couldn’t shake it, couldn’t focus on anything else.
So I gave in. I called Holden. No answer.
Called again. Nothing. That house was my first stop.
It was always the place he went when he was desperate.
He knew no one there would ask questions.
“Like… a twin-telepathy feeling?” Cherry turned back to me, wiggling her eyebrows like she had cracked the case.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a soft pink pillow, tossing it at her. “Give the damn twin-telepathy a rest.”
“I will not,” she said, dodging the pillow like it was part of a routine. “Not until you admit it’s real. But seriously, Blair, are you okay?”
I breathed out through my nose. “You know, the first time, it was like a car crash. A really bad one. The kind that stays with you forever. You think about it every time you buckle your seatbelt. The pain lingers, even after the injuries are healed.”
Cherry nodded slowly. “And now?”
“Now… it’s like a car with brakes you never got around to fixing. Sure, you can try to drive slow, or use the emergency brake, but sooner or later it’s going to crash. And when it does…”
“You’re not surprised,” Cherry finished.
“No. I’m not. Holden needs to get his damn brakes fixed,” I muttered.
“Speaking of, where did your parents send him this time?” she asked, already guessing they’d acted fast. Cherry knew my parents nearly as well as I did.
“Some rehab facility in Idaho,” I said, remembering the look on Holden’s face when they told him.
“Idaho?” Cherry gasped, like I’d just told her they were making him eat raw horse meat. Honestly, that was exactly Holden’s reaction too.
“I think they’re going down the list of rehab centers that accept our insurance,” I explained. “Three-month stay.”
“You think it’ll help?” she asked, that familiar doubt curling in her voice. The same doubt we always felt.
“I think it will,” I said. To her. To myself. “Something’s got to stick.”
Cherry shrugged, lips pressing into a tight line like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Instead, she turned back to the vanity and picked up a lipstick. She unscrewed the lid, applying it with precision. The color popped against her pale skin. Cherry red.
“So, why exactly are you forcing me to go with you tonight?” I asked, finally getting out of bed. I walked over to my closet and stared blankly at the rows of hanging clothes, none of them feeling like they belonged anywhere outside this room.
I didn’t go to parties. I didn’t drink. I didn’t smoke. I didn’t do drugs. I knew better. And Cherry knew that about me. She never pushed. Never asked me to be someone I wasn’t. So if she was asking tonight, there had to be a reason.
“Because,” Cherry said, not looking up from her reflection, “you remember that guy I was telling you about? Lucas? Well, he’s staying with Killian this weekend.”
“And what does that have to do with me?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Well, Killian, you know Killian, right? Sat behind you in history, played basketball? He said he’d only go if you’re going,” she said with a casual shrug and a not-so-casual smile.
“He doesn’t even know me,” I said flatly. “We’ve spoken like… twice. So you’re using me so you can hook up with Lucas?”
“You don’t have to go,” Cherry’s voice dropped, soft and guilty, but not in a manipulative way. I could tell she really did care if she offended me. “I knew it’d be too much. I shouldn’t have asked. What was I thinking—”
“Cherry. Calm down. It’s fine,” I said, cutting her off. “Maybe it’ll be good to finally get out of the house. And if it helps you get to Lucas, it’s a night well spent in my opinion.”
“Yeah?” she stood up, her smile blooming as she walked toward me. “This is why I love you.” She threw her arms around me.
She pulled me into a hug that felt automatic, practiced.
Her arms fit around me the way they always had, snug and certain, like she’d done it a thousand times before.
Her chin bumped my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek, and I felt myself relax without thinking about it.
I rested my forehead against her temple, breathing her in, letting the moment settle the way only she ever could.
“Why? Because I bend so easily to your will?” I teased.
“No. Because you’re the most thoughtful, selfless person I know,” she said, completely serious.
“Yeah, well compared to you, everyone seems selfless and thoughtful,” I said, rolling my eyes, but the warmth in her words stayed with me.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and poke holes in your best friend’s heart,” she muttered, pulling away. She turned to the closet. “Now put some clothes on so we can leave. Wait, can I pick your outfit? Please, please, please?”
“Oh my god, you are so demanding,” I laughed. “Go for it.”
She dove in immediately, pushing hangers aside, her brows furrowed in concentration, lips pursed like she was solving a fashion emergency. Then her face lit up like Christmas morning. She pulled out a hanger and held it in the air like a trophy. “This.”
“You want me to wear this?” I asked, incredulous. “To a party?”
It was a bright yellow sundress, soft and light, with thin straps and a square neckline that gathered gently at the chest. The fabric fit close through the waist before falling into a loose, airy skirt that looked like it would move when I did instead of clinging to me, and it had two small pockets on the sides.
It was short without feeling exposed, delicate without feeling fragile—sunlight stitched into fabric
“Yes,” she said, beaming. She threw it at me. “It’s you. Completely. Bright. Beautiful. Happier than you should be.”
As usual, I gave in. I liked to complain about her demands, but truthfully, I loved her for them. Her chaos made the world feel less sharp. And after I’d changed, we both slid into my car, heading toward whatever kind of night this would turn out to be.
“I should make you come to parties more often,” Cherry told me, her legs crossed as she fiddled with the buttons on the stereo. “If you drive, it means I can drink.”
“Just go easy,” I reminded her, remembering the last time I witnessed her drunk. She danced on the pool table, her skirt hiked around her waist, her shirt nowhere in sight. No matter how much I pleaded with her to get down, she simply shooed me away.
“Yeah, sure, Mom,” Cherry winked at me. “It’s that way,” she pointed to the left as we stopped at a stop sign.
She watched me drive for only five more minutes before she screeched loud enough that I jumped, my hands jerking the steering wheel out of shock.
“It’s that one,” she squealed excitedly, pointing to a house on the right.
Once I regained control of the wheel, I pulled into an empty spot on the side of the street. “Are you serious, Cherry? We could have walked,” I sighed, looking at my best friend like she had actually lost her mind. The jury’s still out. She really might have.
“In these shoes?” She snorted, lifting her foot to display the four-inch heels she was wearing. “Not a chance.”
“I really wonder sometimes,” I muttered, pulling my door open as Cherry did the same.
“What?” she asked once we were both on the sidewalk. “Why am I so amazing?”
“No, why you’re allowed to go outside without a doctor’s note,” I smiled sweetly as I spoke, then turned and walked toward the suburban house she had pointed out.
“Hey!” Cherry belted from behind me, and I heard the click-clack of her heels against the cement as she ran to catch up. “That was mean… I think.”
“It’s all from my deep love for you,” I reminded her as we reached the door. Cherry moved to open it, but I grabbed her wrist before she could. “Just make sure you tell me when you and Lucas are about to leave so you can suck each other’s faces off, so I can leave first, okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry, my dear Blair. I’ll be sure to give you a running update on everything that me and Lucas are about to do,” Cherry teased, her voice dropping into something low and comedic.
“You’re sick,” I shook my head, finally allowing her to push the door open.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the party.