I’d been awake for nearly two hours by the time Sophie barged into my bedroom. I lowered my laptop screen as the door swung open and looked up at her from where I lay in bed.

The contrast between how she’d looked at the bar last night and her present state was yet another reminder of what an evilly deceptive invention makeup was. Without her blush and lipstick, Sophie’s face was pale and drawn, made worse by smudged remnants of mascara still clinging to her drooping eyes. Her hair was wet and dripping onto the navy dress that she’d worn the night before, the water turning the gauzy material black. I cringed as I thought of her using my kitchen sink to wash the vomit from the strands that now fell in stringy clumps around her face.  

Sophie hesitated, clearly trying to decide if she wanted to ask how she’d ended up at my apartment or pretend as if nothing had happened at all.

“Have you seen my phone?” she asked after a moment, and I rolled to the edge of my bed, swinging my legs over the side as I sat up.

“Oh, good morning, Sophie. Thanks for knocking, come on in. Glad to see you didn’t die on my couch.” I said with feigned politeness.

Sophie rubbed an eye with the back of her hand, leaving a shadow of black liner around her cheekbone. “I wasn’t that bad.”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “You’re kidding me. Are you still drunk?”

Sophie shook her head and I watched droplets of water fly from the ends. “I was just tired.”

I scoffed and got to my feet. “Give me a break. You were halfway to black out by the time I got to the club.”

Face hardening, Sophie crossed her arms over her chest. “I remember everything.”

“In that case, when can I expect the fifty dollars I had to pay to get the cab cleaned?”

“Take it from Michael’s commission if you ever get me a job,” she snapped and then sighed. “You are so weird.”

“Why?”

Instead of answering, Sophie frowned and started running a finger up and down the side of her dress, focusing on a spot in the fabric a few inches below her rib cage. I watched as horror clouded her expression and she cried, “Oh my God, I’m so screwed.”

“What?”

“My dress!”

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, confused by her sudden panic.

Sophie turned slightly so I could see her profile. “Do you see it?”

I squinted and took a step forward. Even with my contacts in, I couldn’t tell what she was pointing at. “No, I don’t know what you’re—“

“Are you drunk? There’s a giant rip in my dress.”

Sophie moaned and buried her head in her hands as I scratched the back of my neck. If we were looking at the same thing, the hole was less than a centimeter wide. “Can’t you just take it to a seamstress or something?” I suggested.

“There isn’t enough time,” Sophie’s muffled reply came from behind her fingers.

“Time for what? I thought celebrities never wore the same thing twice, anyway,” I joked and Sophie looked up from her palms to glare at me.

“Do you know why that is, Parker?”

“Rampant vanity and high credit lines?”

Sophie ran a hand through her drying hair, leaving behind a shock of light golden frizz. “Yeah, the vanity of the designers who lend us their samples and hold our reputations as collateral until we return them.”

“That dress isn’t yours?”

“As if I’d really wear a three thousand dollar dress to a club if I’d paid for it. I have to give this back to the store by five tonight.”

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Sophie had reminded me just how valuable it is to be beautiful in Los Angeles. The paycheck I’d been so excited about cashing yesterday now felt pretty insignificant. “How did you manage to tear it in the first place?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied in an artificially saccharine tone. “You were the one who kept manhandling me all night, maybe you snagged it on something.”

I couldn’t stop my mouth from falling open and letting an incredulous laugh escape. “Gee, I’m sorry, Soph,” I said as my voice rose. “Maybe if you hadn’t been a total shit show I wouldn’t have had to take care of you at all. My bad for trying to keep you from slipping on your own puke and falling on your face.”

Not backing down, Sophie whined, “Where was Vinny? Did you even tell him that you were taking me home?”

“Who do you think begged me to deal with you so he wouldn’t have to?” I retorted and a flash of hurt crossed Sophie’s face.

“Vinny and I take care of each other when we go out. He would never ditch me,” she said with so much confidence that I had to gnaw on the inside of my cheek to keep from shattering the idealized image she had of her childhood friend.

“Fine, you know what? Why don’t you ask him about it?” I picked up my phone from the bedside table where it had been charging and tossed it at her. Sophie caught it and stared at me. “He has your phone and I gave him my address last night, so call him and tell him to come get you.”

I bit off a piece of fingernail and ground it between my teeth while Sophie called the dark haired DJ, whispering into the speaker so I couldn’t hear her what she said. I’d known that Vinny had been right when he’d warned me not to expect Sophie to thank me for taking care of her, but that just added on to all the ways her self-entitlement already irritated me. Maybe it was true that her industry friends—real and fake—didn’t always treat her right, but shouldn’t that have made her a little bit more appreciative of the few who actually tried to have her back? By the time Sophie ended her call and turned back around to face me, I’d simmered for too long and the words bubbled out of my mouth unrestrained.

“Is he coming?” I demanded, taking my phone from her grasp and slipping it into the pocket of the sweatpants that I’d worn to bed.

Sophie nodded, looking down. My eyes followed her gaze to the lines of crusted blood that covered her feet. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said that her shoes were painful. “He just left the set of a shoot in Century City. He said he’d be here in twenty minutes.”

“That’s funny, I kind of figured that he would’ve had enough of cameras after last night.”

“What does that mean?”

“I told you already: ask him.”

“Why are you pissed at Vinny?”

“I’m not,” I replied honestly and Sophie frowned.

“Then why do you keep telling me to talk to him about what happened?” she asked. “Did he do something to you?”

“No, he didn’t. I’m just hoping that if you hear the story from him, you’ll realize how messed up it is that you haven’t even thanked me for getting you home safely.”

Sophie gathered her hair so that it fell over one bony shoulder and began examining the tips. “I mean, I am grateful and everything, but what happened last night wasn’t really my fault. I grabbed the wrong drink and there was probably something in--“

“Oh, come on.” I threw my hands up in frustration.

Sophie stopped looking for split ends long enough to glance up at me uncertainly. The expression on her face made it was obvious that she was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going but I continued, “Has anything ever been your fault?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Have you ever taken responsibility for anything?” I asked in exasperation. “You blame me, you blame Michael, you blame everyone for everything, but have you ever stopped for even a second and asked yourself, ‘Gee, I wonder if I’m the one messing up?’”

“I—“

“Seriously, just look at yourself—look at your career—and tell me that you haven’t caused any of your own problems. There has to be a reason why I can’t get a single person to call me back when I try to schedule an audition for you.”

“Parker—“

“Sophie, things would really be a lot easier for both of us if you would just grow up. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this.” I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from saying more when I realized that not only was I yelling, but also that Sophie’s eyes had taken on a strangely vacant quality as she stared at a point past my shoulder.

Rather than responding, Sophie swallowed twice before turning around and walking out of my room wordlessly. I followed and watched her sit down on the couch that she’d slept on, slipping her swollen feet into the heels that had been cast aside on the floor.

“What are you doing?” I asked as she gingerly stood up with a wince.

“I’m going to wait outside,” she said, favoring her right leg as she took small, uneven steps towards my front door.

“Why? There’s no way that Vinny’s here yet.”

Sophie looked me in the eye and began to laugh. “I’m sorry, but why would I want to hang out with someone who doesn’t even like me?”

“Huh?”

“Parker, you just told me that you think I suck. Obviously I was right when I told Scott that you hate me.” Sophie brought a finger quickly to her eye and wiped away what looked like a tear.

Guilt quickly overtook my previous annoyance and I groaned, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I never said you suck, and I don’t hate you, Sophie.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“What does not liking you have to do with anything? Besides, I never said that either and you know it. I like you, it’s just... some of the things that you do drive me crazy, that’s all.”

Sophie shook her head and wiped her eyes again. “But if everything about me drives you crazy, then how are we supposed to work together? Brian couldn’t stand me either but at least it took him ten years to figure that out.”

“I’m not Brian, and I’m not going to bail on you, I promise.” I said as I backpedaled from the claims that I’d made a moment before. “It’ll work out, okay? Don’t cry.”

“What makes you think I’m crying?” Sophie asked with a furtive smile playing on her lips and I realized that her eyes were dry. Scowling, I took a step backwards to study the gloating girl in my living room.

“Are you screwing with me?”

“I might be,” Sophie admitted as her smile widened. “I just feel like you don’t fully appreciate my talent yet. Make a note that crying on command is part of my repertoire.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed my front door open, gesturing towards the hallway. “Maybe you should wait outside after all. I’m sure the fresh air will take the edge off that hangover of yours,” I said, half-jokingly.  

“Oh, Parker. You honestly aren’t even fun to tease. It’s too easy.” Sophie chuckled. “You really are a strange one.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said with a shrug. “I’ll see you next week, I guess. Sorry about… well, you know.” She hesitated before pulling me into a brief hug that lasted for less time than it took her to scurry from my apartment in her needlepoint stilettos.

Shutting the door behind her, I returned to my room and stared out the window that looked over the street below. I watched from that position until I saw Sophie’s thin figure appear on the sidewalk. As if sensing my gaze, she turned to look up at my window and smiled broadly at me. Embarrassed at having been caught, I ducked away from my blinds when she began to wave. I thought I could hear her laughter as I collapsed onto my bed.

After this morning, there was little doubt left in my mind that Sophie was at least partially insane. Every time she opened her mouth it felt like I was waiting for the outcome of a round of Russian Roulette and that terrified me. I never knew if she was going to blow up, squeal with joy, or act like a halfway normal human being. I knew that I should’ve been more annoyed with her given the circumstances, but I wasn’t. That anger had faded away for good at the same time that she’d cried the first of her fake tears. I guess she’d been right when she’d called herself charming that day she’d broken into my office. Come to think of it, I hadn’t been very upset with her then, either.

Reaching for my laptop that lay nestled in my blankets, I began to wonder if  the real problem with Sophie was that she was rubbing off on me and I was the one losing it. I couldn’t remember yelling at another girl at any point during my life and as much as she may have deserved a lesson in manners, I felt guilty for having been the one to point that out to her. On the other hand, maybe I’m just a hypocrite. One minute I’m telling her to take responsibility for actions, and the next, I’m apologizing so she doesn’t have to.  

When my laptop’s screen flickered back to life, I double-clicked on the icon of my screenplay submission to LAU’s film school. As soon as the page opened, I began to type. The idea that had been playing on a loop in the back of my mind finally bursting from my fingertips and filling up lines of previously blank space. I didn’t leave my apartment for the rest of the weekend as the scenes began to take shape and I paced around my bedroom, acting out a hundred different characters until I finally found one with the right voice to tell the story of my gap year.

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A/N: Hello! It's been so long. To those who follow this story, I apologize for the ridiculous delay, but life got far too hectic for me to keep up with this site and the mountains of work that have been piling up on my desk/in my apartment/in my brain.

This chapter is dedicated to @escapism101 for many reasons, one of those being the fact that she shot me a message to see if I was coming back to this site. She has really wonderful ideas and stories so I wholeheartedly encourage fans of creativity, which should be everyone, to go check her stuff out.

As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Please tell me if you spot any typos, and shoot me a message if you'd like for me to check out your story!

XO, Lia