Chapter 2
ROMI
“Go away,” I mumble with a pounding headache, trying to slap away whoever is shaking me awake.
“Romi, wake up.” Sienna’s voice is laced with concern.
Fuck. These last few weeks, she’s been my self-appointed babysitter.
“Go away.” I roll over, pretending like she’s not there.
A splash of cold water shocks me into sitting upright. I gasp, and it’s not Sienna’s worried gaze I find; it’s Ara’s intense green eyes, narrowed expectantly.
“Up,” Ara, my no-nonsense friend, says.
Lily, my soft but firm friend, stands behind her, looking between us, likely uncertain of Ara’s approach. Because, let’s be real, Ara's the only one besides me who would be willing to throw cold water on a friend as an intervention.
“What the fuck!” I gasp, now sitting in my wet bed, the blanket across my stomach and legs saturated. I glare at Ara, who’s about six months pregnant, giving her serious stink eye for throwing the water on me.
I look at the empty space beside me. “Where’s… ahhh?” I click my fingers. I can’t remember her name.
“Your most recent conquest? She left twenty minutes ago. We caught her trying to steal one of your lamps.”
I frown. A lamp? Really? “You'd think she’d try to take my wallet or something, huh?”
“That’s not funny.” Sienna folds her arms over her chest. Her long blonde hair is in a tight ponytail, so I know they’ve come over meaning business.
She’s been riding my ass ever since I’ve intentionally put distance between us.
She’s always been more reactive than the others, but now, apparently, I’m in trouble with all of them.
I roll my eyes, and a small part of me shifts as Borris, my long-haired terrier, jumps onto the bed. I grab a pillow to set him on so he doesn’t get wet, and I pet him, sitting in my own misery.
Lily tucks her wavy, caramel-colored hair behind her ears as she offers me painkillers and a glass of water, her expression one of sympathy.
“Well, at least one of you has mercy on me this morning,” I grumble.
Ara’s hand goes to her stomach as she looks down on me, the nurturing aura far from the glowering glare. “We’re here to help.”
I swallow the pills. “I don’t need to be babysat. Are you still annoyed because I left the party early?” I ask Lily as I throw the wet blanket off, wearing nothing but my oversized shirt that reads, “I’m not the problem.” I notice there’s a stain on it from fuck knows what.
“No, we’re annoyed because you left the party early and then ignored our calls and messages. We were worried.” Sienna tries to make the last bit sound less harsh, but I can hear the edge of irritation.
I stand with a sigh, and they make way for me, then follow me into the kitchen.
“I don’t recall when we signed a pact that I had to update everyone on my whereabouts or what I’m doing.”
“Or who you’re doing.” Sienna raises a brow at me.
I smirk. “Sienna Falcone, are you slut-shaming me?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. We’re worried because you won’t open up to any of us, and we haven’t seen you go a day without hard liquor or a joint in your hand,” she’s quick to say.
“Both are legal, you know,” I say as I pick up the pack of cigarettes on my kitchen island and use the smiley face lighter I stole two nights ago at Lily and Lorenzo’s party.
I light a cigarette and take a moment for myself, closing my eyes as I will this pounding migraine away before I release a breath.
“Romi, please,” Lily says urgently. “Lorenzo and I are leaving tomorrow, and I want to make sure you’re okay before I leave for Italy.”
When I open my eyes, I’m forced to acknowledge my closest friends standing in my kitchen, looking at me like I’m a lost cause.
They look so out of place in my apartment. They’re all so perfectly put together, and much like me, my apartment is a fucking mess. It’s the first time I’ve really looked at it in weeks.
When I look to my right, and up at the spiral staircase to my studio, it’s hard to push down the lump that forms in my throat when I spot the black paint stained on it from where I kicked a can of paint down it the first night the anger consumed me after Lorraine’s death.
Every part of this apartment reminds me of her. The memories we’d made, the friendship we'd shared, and how I’d failed her. For the most part, I’ve been able to block it out, but there are some rooms, like my studio and her bedroom, that I haven’t been able to revisit since she died.
“I’ve never been better,” I lie, trying to push away the imposing thoughts and memories. “It’s always a bonus when your friends splash cold water on you. Ten out of ten for friend goals.”
“We’re worried about you. You haven’t acted like yourself for weeks now,” Sienna says. “We know Lorraine was important to you. If you could explain to us what happened maybe we can help.”
“We know you didn’t kill her,” Lily is quick to add.
“Despite the gossip and numerous articles that would say otherwise?” I ask with a cruel smile, trying to hide the way it tears me apart.
It’s all because her mother made accusations at her funeral that I’d been the reason Lorraine died, and she's been smearing my reputation ever since. And deep down, I agree.
That sense of a noose around my neck reappears, my stomach dropping as it feels like the world is trying to suck me into an abyss. I take another deep inhale of the cigarette, enjoying its burn, and when I blow it back out, I carefully grit, “Don’t say her name around me.”
Don’t drag this pain to the surface when all I’m trying to do is numb it away.
My friends fall quiet. I rest the cigarette on a dirty plate and crouch down to pet Borris.
In many ways, he’s been my anchor. The little shit has string-like hair, but I swear he’s the cutest, yet ugliest, dog I’ve ever known.
His innocent brown eyes stare back at me lovingly as he waits to be picked up, which I’ve been doing a lot lately except right now since I’m still fucking wet.
So, I settle for scratching him under the chin as I look back up at my friends, sick of them hovering around me like I'm some child.
“So, what, is this like some intervention? Because if so, I’m pretty busy, and I’m pretty sure you should be as well.”
“Busy?” Sienna queries. “You’re not painting or attending any of your scheduled events. You haven’t bought any food, besides dog food, and it doesn’t even look like you’ve brushed your hair in a week.”
I smirk, bringing my hand to my short black hair and scrunching it up.
Months ago, it was shoulder-length and a vivid red, but I’ve come to enjoy the recent cut and color; it's at least easy to maintain.
I stand up and grab the cigarette from the dirty plate, tapping it before taking another inhale.
It irritates me the way they silently judge me as I bring the cigarette to my lips. Granted, I didn’t usually smoke before this—only if I was really drunk—but I don’t need or want their concern. I’ve never judged their coping mechanisms.
“I think you should be more concerned about your own affairs, wouldn’t you say, Sienna? Where’s your fiancé? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about what’s happening between you and Michael than being up my ass?”
Her mouth snaps shut, and I can see the hurt in her expression. So be it. If it’s the only way people will leave me alone, I’ll jab where I know it's most tender.
“We’ve come to help you clear out Lorraine’s bedroom,” Ara sternly says, her tone most likely in response to how I just spoke to Sienna. My gaze skirts over to her, and I narrow it on the harsher woman of the group. In many ways, it’s why I've respected her so much. Until now.
“Excuse me?”
Lily steps forward then. “We think it might be a good idea if you have someone move in with you, even if temporarily.”
I scoff. Oh, so now they really are trying to find me a babysitter.
“I’m enjoying my own space,” I reply flippantly.
“Your need to have someone in your bed every night says otherwise,” Ara says.
“You want time off work? Fine. You want to get shitfaced every day? So be it. You won’t publicly address these rumors?
That’s on you. But if someone else is here, at least you might be more accountable in your everyday life and regain some kind of routine.
When was the last time you went to your yoga classes? ”
I shrug. I don’t see how any of that fucking matters. “You're joking, right? Jesus Christ. I’m mourning, not fucking suicidal.”
They remain quiet. Great, so my friends think I’m going to hurt myself.
“You can’t keep pushing everything away with drugs, alcohol, sex, and whatever else you’re doing right now,” Sienna adds quietly.
I shake my head as I put out the cigarette. I move around the kitchen to grab Borris’s food from the top shelf and tip it into his bowl.
“What good friends you are. I never forced my opinions on any of you when you were dealing with your own shit.”
“We’re worried about you,” Lily says, pushing forward with her hands to her chest, and I hate how my oldest friend has that kind and calming energy buzzing around her. She’s always been so wholesome, and right now I want to do everything to fight it, feeling undeserving of her worry and love.
“There’s no fucking need to be,” I grit, two seconds away from either exploding or breaking down, and I hope it’s not the latter.
“There was a woman trying to drag out one of your fucking lamps this morning, Romi. Do you even remember her name?” Sienna says explosively.
I try to recall her name from the night before when we met at the bar. Was it Felicity? Falecia? Florence? Oh, fuck me, it started with F. I can remember that much.
“Who gives a shit? I’m having fun.”
“You’re not having fun. You’re trying to avoid everything because you’re too scared to confront what’s behind that door,” Lily says as she points to the second bedroom—Lorraine’s room.
I take in a sharp breath, the memory of when I answered the call slowly creeping in.
“We need you to come down and identify the body.”
Those words haunt me.
I try to push them away, and I pet Borris as he chows down on his food.
“I can move in for a few months,” Sienna suggests.
I put my hand up. “No. You’re going to spend time in London for that acting gig you worked so hard to get. I just need time to process, okay? That’s all.”
A silent question remains, one they’ve all asked before—will I move out of this apartment at all?
I come from money. Although my mother forfeited her place in high society when she married my father for love, after their divorce she remarried back into it, reclaiming her entitlement.
And this apartment wasn’t, and still isn’t, approved by my mother.
My friends have never said it openly, but I know they don’t understand why I choose to live in a place like this, especially when those in our inner circles all live in penthouses or mansions.
Lorraine was someone I met randomly on a night out after she had just moved to the city.
She was different from the people in the social circles I’d grown up in, and I was drawn to her idealization and goals of starting a new life in the city I’d come to take for granted.
It was an immediate friendship, and we drunkenly came up with the idea to move in together.
I never cared about how this place looked to others; it was within Lorraine’s budget.
It might be modest, but I always enjoyed its vibe.
Leaving this place would feel like abandoning the memory of her and the life she had.
“It might be good for you to have someone with you. Even if only for a little while. What do you have to lose?” Lily suggests carefully.
I look away, shivering at the sudden chill of my wet clothes clinging to my body. I’m angry. At them. At the world. Mostly at myself.
I just want to be alone, and it’s my right to be so, and yet all I’m doing is using different people every night, so I’m not alone, and I hate how much they fucking see that.
I don’t know up from down right now, and I don’t even want to attempt to figure out my bearings. I’m just punishing myself through this messy, disastrous version of myself.
I glance back at Lorraine’s room. I’m not ready to let go. I’m not even prepared to say goodbye yet.
As if knowing everything I’m thinking, Sienna gently says, “What if we pack all of her things into boxes, and we can put them in your studio until you’re ready to go through them? We can help you put up a roommate advertisement. We promise we’re doing this because we love you.”
I hate how much of me they see, too scared that they’ll see the ugliness at my core. I shrug, trying to push away the tears that dare to spring to my eyes.
“Fine, but I’ll do the ad.” I know it’s the only way they’ll stop pressuring me. “And I make no promises that the new roommate will last any longer than a few days. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a shower before I catch a cold.”
My gaze catches on Lorraine’s door one more time as I walk through the living room and toward the bathroom, a lump forming in my throat.
"You killed her! You did this!" Lorraine’s mother’s voice echoes in my head, and I shove away the words that ripped the rug from beneath me and made me feel as if I’ve been swallowed whole.
On my way into the bathroom, I snag the open bottle of vodka on my coffee table, grateful that my friends don’t comment on it.