♫ I heard about, you and your other situation
Through word of mouth
They made it seem so complicated
Is it over now? ♪
(Sevyn Streeter—Before I do)

Such an important event warranted an even more important outfit—meaning Coralie had to go home. There was no avoiding it; she'd be confronting Delilah that day. The questions would pour out, voices would raise, tears would spill, and the walls would rattle with the echoes of their argument.

But Delilah was her best option to help pick out what she'd wear. First impressions mattered, Delilah always said so; but Coralie sucked at putting her finest features forward. Would Delilah still want to assist her in whipping up one of her signature specials after Coralie told her the truth?

Doubtful.

In the Lyft, the whole way home, Coralie fought against biting her nails. Delilah was tiny, even when she wore her heels; but her bite was vicious and her sting worse. Had she done horrible things in her life? Absolutely. But she held her friends to a certain standard, and Coralie's behavior, Coralie's decision... might wound their friendship. Especially after Delilah had warned her countless times about Ryan.

When she unlocked their fourth floor apartment door, and caught a whiff of the heavenly aroma of pizza, Coralie wrinkled her nose. Not that she didn't delight in the scent, but Delilah only ate pizza if she was too stressed to cook, too exhausted, or seriously pissed.

"Cora, is that you?" Delilah's surprisingly soft voice came from the kitchen.

Tiptoeing in, wishing she'd been quieter, Coralie removed her shoes. "Uh... yeah. I'm home."

Out of nowhere and with no warning, Delilah's five foot three frame collided into Coralie's and jammed her against the door. "Where the fuck have you been?" The scent of her strawberry spray that she spritzed on every morning flurried into Coralie's nostrils. Her luscious locks of raven whooshed side to side as she crammed her finger once, twice, three times into Coralie's chest, between her breasts. "And why have you been lying to me? I smell it on you. Lies. Sex." She backed away and arched an eyebrow. "Ryan?"

"Huh?" Coralie slithered out of Delilah's reach and hurried into the living room. She plopped onto the couch and dropped her purse on the ground. "Lying? What do you mean?"

"Oh my God, you're so fucking obvious." Delilah groaned as she trudged over to sit next to her. Coralie stiffened, uncertain how her roommate would proceed next; grab her wrist and compress it? Grip her shoulders tight and shake her? Slap her? Scream at her? Cry? With Delilah, emotions were always unexpected and uncontrolled. "You went out to meet him and didn't come home until now? Speak. I want the truth."

Coralie owed nothing to anyone, she knew; but she owed much to Delilah. In tough situations, Delilah had always been there to drag her out of trouble. How many times had she talked them out of being kicked out of nightclubs, or saved her from disgusting pricks hitting on them at bars? How many times had her father come through to help pay their rent when they were short? Delilah, flighty and fickle and over-the-top as she might have been, was fierce when protecting those she loved.

"Shit, Delilah." Coralie massaged her temples and fell into the couch cushions. She was still sore from her intense sex sessions with Ryan, and her mind buzzed with passion from her postponed chat with Michael. "Give me a minute to settle down, would you? I've been working all day." She cringed—that was a partial lie. "And I found out I have a huge gig tonight at that super hip bar I told you about."

Delilah's eyes widened as she turned sideways, sitting cross-legged facing Coralie. "Wait—that place they mentioned a few days after you started the job? Already? Fuck." She smiled, put her hands together to clap... then sneered. "Oh, no, you will not change the subject, young lady. Not yet. What happened with Ryan?" She narrowed her gaze and leaned in close, and her breath—oregano and spicy pepperoni—whooshed over Coralie's cheeks. "Did you fly to Vegas and get married or something? Why all the secrecy?"

Coralie chewed on her lip. "Because I'm... still processing it all."

"Spill." Delilah took Coralie's hand. At first Coralie winced, worried what Delilah might do; but all she did was squeeze with encouragement. "Tell me."

"He... Ryan..." With her free hand, Coralie twirled the hem of her shirt around her finger. "He's getting a divorce. Gemma... he gave her an ultimatum, sort of, asking her to forgive him, but she didn't, so... they're ending it. He's moved here, and he... wants me."

Delilah snorted. "As his second choice? How thoughtful." She rolled her eyes and let go of Coralie's hand. "Well, all that's wonderful, but aren't you forgetting something?" She scowled as she stood up and crossed her arms. "Michael? Your actual boyfriend? What's the deal with him? Are you leaving him for Ryan? Or ditching Ryan?"

"I..." Coralie looked into her lap and gulped. "I don't know yet."

"You're kidding me." Delilah stormed over to the window and yanked the curtains shut. "Ryan is a piece of shit. Shows up when you're comfortable with the long-distance relationship with Michael. Pops his perfect but complicated turd-ball hypocrite self back into your life when you're finally over him? Please, Cora." She dashed up to Coralie and kneeled in front of her, hands clasped in prayer. "Please tell me you're not considering throwing away everything you're building with Michael. Not for this asshole."

"Hey, you told me to meet up with him!" Coralie snickered, thinking about kicking Delilah out of her way. This reaction was a bit hypocritical, coming from Delilah; she'd reformed, but there were once days when she slept with everyone without a care of their relationships or affiliations. And yes, Coralie had been fretting over her judgment, but her insult of Ryan with no knowledge of the depth of their situation bothered her. And her inability to contain her rage and refrain from exploding into hurtful comments disturbed Coralie more than she'd expected it to. "You're in no place to judge, dude."

Delilah shot up to her feet, palms raised in surrender. "Fine. Whatever. But don't pretend like you're an innocent bystander caught between two men, and unsure how to feel. You put yourself there." She began to walk away, then pivoted to Coralie, manicured nails digging into her hips, creasing into her highlighter-yellow leggings. "I told you to meet up with him for closure, not to let him lure you back into his arms so he can hurt you again! Because he will!"

"Maybe." Coralie also stood up and fetched her purse from the floor, throwing its strap over her shoulder. "But... he said he loves me, Delilah."

"Ugh. What perfect timing to say something you've been dying to hear him say for too long. Prick."

Coralie waved her off. "Yes, for a while that was all I wanted. Even with Michael, even..." She sighed, and brushed past Delilah to march into the kitchen. She found the pizza box, grabbed a slice, and shoveled half of it into her mouth. Her lunch was hours ago, and she was famished. "Ryan wants me to break up with Michael. He wants... a commitment."

"Yeah?" Delilah followed her into the kitchen, and handed her a paper plate, but stopped, shocked at her words. "Of course he does, now that you're involved with someone else. So?" She resumed slipping the plate under Coralie's chin, to catch the crumbs from her chewing. "Are you going to do it? Run straight into his life and abandon the guy who actually cares about you?"

Coralie swallowed her bite. "I told you, I don't know." She scrunched her nose. "Plus, doing it over the phone... impersonal, right?"

"You do know, though." Delilah frowned, and as soon as Coralie took hold of the plate, she sashayed backwards and rested against the counter, peering down at her bare, pastel-pink painted toes. "You're avoiding thinking about it. No, I get it," she wagged a finger as Coralie shook her head, "because there's a thrill to it all, right? A part of you enjoys the attention. That, or you're taking pleasure in making Ryan wait, making him suffer. That's cool. And I can't blame you for it, nah, that would be hypocritical." She pursed her lips. "But does Ryan know you're hesitating?"

"Of course," said Coralie, munching on the rest of her pizza. The crust was still warm and the cheese gooey, and it all melted in her mouth. "I... tell him everything."

Another lie. She hid her grimace by shoving the last of the crust behind her teeth and focusing on chewing.

"Right." Delilah's exaggerated nod and drawn-out tone showed her disbelief. "Be careful. It might be fun for now, but you're going to get yourself in a bad place, Cora. You'll have to choose eventually, before they both desert you. Either get rid of Ryan and tell Michael the truth and pray he forgives you... or you end things with him and spare his heart. And," she snarled, "return to your fantasy-land with Ryan, until he finds another piece of ass to fool around with."

"Delilah!" Coralie threw her paper plate into the trash with more force than necessary, knocking over a few overflowing soda cans. "Stop that!"

"Girl, it's the truth, and you know it. The sooner you realize what a devil Ryan is, the sooner you can concentrate on your real goals. You know, your singing?" Delilah huffed as she peeled away from the counter. "Speaking of which... let's put this disagreement aside for a minute, because I assume you need my expertise to salvage whatever stupid outfit you had planned in your head for this gig?"

Wiping her mouth with a paper towel, Coralie scoffed. "Oh, you're not mad at me, then? You'll actually help me?"

"Sweetie, I'm pissed. I was eating pizza, for fuck's sake, you know what that means." She swept past Coralie in a cloud of strawberry, a trail of curse words spewing out in her wake. "But," her voice wafted over from Coralie's room, "I know an emergency when I see one, and you're horrible with picking the right shit to wear. Don't lie, because despite your idiocy and your attempts to hide your fling with Ryan from me, you were hoping I'd offer my advice."

"More like force it down my throat," mumbled Coralie, tossing the napkin over the mess in the garbage can.

"What was that?" Delilah poked her head out and growled. "Hurry the fuck up, I don't have all night. I need to go back to pouting and teaching you life lessons."

Coralie joined her, and watched as she rummaged through every scrap of clothing she owned. Within five minutes, Delilah threw together something so effortless but so flattering, one would have never guessed she'd chewed Coralie out and accused her of being a moron. High-waisted, dark washed jeans, with a yellow half-sleeve top, and a pair of three-inch black platform shoes—her temporary peace offer was genius, and Coralie was thrilled.

"There." Delilah pointed at the shirt. "Tuck it into the pants. You pull off the whole high-waisted thing really well, as much as I hate to admit it. Wear that, sing somewhat good, and you'll wow them."

Coralie fished through her drawers and pulled out one of her song notebooks. "Great, now I need to figure out what to sing. Can you help with that, too?"

With a snap and a cackle, Delilah wandered into her room. "Let's not get crazy, friend. I've calmed down, but not that much. Figure that shit out on your own."

Torn between laughter at Delilah's attitude—a normal thing, despite the tension—and anxiety at the reality of the gig hitting her hard in the face, Coralie sank onto her bed and buried her nose into her pillow.

I think I'm having an affair with the man who had an affair with me. Fuck.

♥♥♥