86
Emily stands on Chris’ patio, finger pressed against soft bristles of their cactus, AJ, nursing a cup of lukewarm water as she lets the black mist in her mind settle. The air is cold, damp with rain, clouds thick and grey, angry almost and Emily’s spent the last half hour sketching them into borders of Chris’ notebook. Its pages are old and worn, lines and lines of painful memories and Emily isn’t sure why he hasn’t just thrown it away but she’s never understood most of what Chris has done.
Emily barely registers the sound of the screen door pulling back with a slight creak, hinges squeaking, the grinding noise of glass and Emily cranes her head to see Chris standing in the doorway, shirt wrinkled and dirty, a mug of coffee in his hand.
“It’s old.” Emily tells him.
“Yeah.” Chris agrees, taking a sip. “Moving in?”
“I pretty much live here.” Emily replies and she isn’t sure why she does. This was a passing phase, whatever this was, but she was tired of looking at the same four walls of her apartment, moving in and out of the study, never working on anything, always sitting on the tile of her empty patio, no cactus, no anything.
Emily looks away, knuckles sleep from her eyes and pours the rest of her water into the cactus. She lifts to her feet, folding Chris’ notebook closed and she pushes it into his chest as she heads back inside.
“You going to meet your teacher?” Chris asks, staring down at the notebook, his back to her and Emily can see the fine lines of irritation that hunch his shoulders, the ones that curve his spine.
“Not sure.” Emily moves into his kitchen, taking the old pot of coffee from where it sits near the fridge and dumps it. She rinses the bowl out, pours too much dish liquid inside, suds forming and sliding along glass, frosted with steam and maybe she stares too long because by the time Chris moves over to turn off the water all the bubbles are gone.
“Don’t let some fuckboy ruin your life, Em.” Chris pats her shoulder before he moves away. She still didn’t know what was up with that, with Chris but he’s changed since high school, the typical college dropout type just instead of burning out back at his parent’s like most kids, Chris fixes computers and goes out with Ashley every Wednesday and let's Emily sleep in his guest room.
“Okay.” Emily answers, moving towards her bedroom. She can hear the screen door close, wonders idly if he’s stepped outside like he does sometimes and stare absently into nothing. Emily thinks that maybe Chris is the reason she can’t take anything seriously, why years of her father’s harsh mellow words fail to phase her now.
Emily hums, that was an interesting thought, and she’s starting to think that her thoughts aren’t together enough anymore to try and dab into any part of her childhood. Move seven states over, get a job, go to art school, stay with Chris. Three of those things weren’t supposed to happen but Emily’s forgotten which.
It takes her twenty minutes to shower, five spent staring at maroon colored toes, seven trying to figure out if she was out of conditioner, four realizing that she definitely was and the rest was Emily grumbling through citrus smelling suds, swallowing down a sigh. Simple thing, should’ve remembered. Emily dismisses this idea as quickly as it comes. She’s been busy. The talk of the pretentious art school she attended.
Emily's heard it, the story of Icarus, how he grew too proud, too close to the sun and how those lovely wings melted into wax and feather causing him to plummet to the sea. It should be fitting, how that story molds into hers and they've been calling her the "golden girl" since freshman year, since her first painting hung in Gilse Hall, a 32 x 24 canvas made up in ink and graphite and she remembers doing it because "it couldn't be done".
Fitting. Emily's never seen confidence fail so spectacularly nor did she think it'd be her, was her and she's been staring at her professor's advisement request for a few days now that she's starting to think of how many ways she can drown in a pool without anyone knowing that she's a failure. The entire school knew, had to know because she's seen more turned heads in the past week than she has in her life.
Chris isn’t outside when she remerges, toweling her hair with an old shirt. He’s gone, along with the notebook, his mug rinsed out, set in the drying basin. Emily clicks her teeth, doesn’t bother to blow dry her hair, spreading mousse from the ends to her roots and pulls it back tight, too tight because her head throbs by the time she’s finished and it almost offsets the shaking in her arms. Emily takes down her hair before she leaves, stomachs the onslaught feelings that fester in her mind and blinks back the thick stench of failure that’s been following her around.
You are okay, Emily inhales, exhales. She would shoulder through this as she has through other minor inconveniences. Her mind says this isn’t minor, says it’s important to uphold image and poise but the words just sound like her mother’s voice whenever she thinks them. Emily wonders if they know, if they’ve talked about their “rebelling” only child, last child, last hope to vicariously live. She hasn’t called but they hadn’t either and Emily’s not sure if she cares or if she just doesn’t want to hear congratulations, you ruined your life.
"It lacks substance."
It's bitter, cold, lacks understanding, lacks originality and Emily's mind hasn't tried to grasp the concept, hasn't tried to wrap itself around Ickard's dismissive tone, his barely cast glance at Emily's art final. When he had looked at it, taken all of it in, his expression changed, crumpled with discomfort.
"Did you even try?"
"No."
That might've been how the conversation went or it could've gone completely different, Emily hadn't paid attention, Ickard's disappointed expression reminding her of home, of why she changed her major in the first place.
The sun is warm against her face, crooked stone pressing into the curve of her knees, denim shifting each time she tries to breathe. There are voices around her, varying levels of tone, depth, variations that become old whirring levels of distant, muffled sounds.
Emily stares down at the slip of paper in her hands, wrinkled corners, wet blots, splatters along eggshell and she crumples it up before her thoughts tell her not to, a thick red 'F' disappearing underneath layers of trembling fingers and paper until it's nothing but a tiny wad.
Emily realizes she should've argued for her grade but even she knows her heart wasn't in it, hasn't been in it since she got the assignment a month ago after everything happened. Broken pieces slotting together, creating one cluster fuck so big that Emily is stuck debating with whether or not she should just drop out.
"Heard you failed your art midterm."
Emily looks up, squinting at the shadowing light haloing Beth's head. She knows it's Beth because of the quality of her voice, heavy, words rolling along her tongue like they come from someplace besides her mind. Beth shifts, blots out the sun, teeth working around a piece of gum, lips pursed as she blows a bubble, light red and sheer. She's holding a skateboard tucked under one arm, a cardigan folded over it.
There are bags under her eyes, makes the brown in them seem infinite and tired and Emily almost wants to ask what could possibly make Beth Washington seem so worn. She doesn't, simply studies how messy and dirty Beth's hair is, a beanie slouched on her head.
"Is that my shirt?" Emily asks, closely examining the faded gray shirt Beth is wearing. She recognizes bleach stains around the collar, faded words that read Alice in Chains, the sleeves cut off, arms opening into a deep slouch where Emily can see what bandeau Beth is wearing. Emily almost wants to ask how the fuck she got it but Beth probably wouldn't tell her.
Beth looks down at her clothing, legs bare despite how cold it is, the tops of her knees red. She shrugs and Emily sneers.
"You didn't answer my question." Beth says, shifting over and the sun is back in Emily's face.
"Why does it matter?"
"Didn't know you could fail."
Emily wants to remind Beth that she's human but the words don't want to come and Emily doesn't care enough to indulge her pride with a defense. Emily looks away from Beth, back down to the crumpled paper in her hands, navy polish gleaming under light and Beth is beside her, sitting on the stone ledge when Emily starts paying attention again.
Beth doesn't say anything else, silence passing through them like old habits, like high school when Beth used to invite Emily to the skatepark near their house, just Emily, because she's the only one who wouldn't complain about being there for too long.
Beth reaches over, pats Emily's knee with a worn smile, fingernails cut short, edges bitten up and chipped and Emily looks at her.
"Let's go."
--
"I knew arts supplies were expensive but," Chris whistles, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline and Emily snorts, a basket curled around her elbow, mostly packed with charcoal and ink. She's studying different pens, standard name brands and more lowly ones but a pen is a pen and no one has been able to convince her otherwise.
Chris makes a disgruntled noise, Emily looking up to see him shrinking away from a particularly expensive set of prismacolor. He looks at her, pouty, hands in his pockets as he wanders over to her.
"Don't bitch." Emily grabs a pack of black ballpoint pens. "It's unsettling."
"Lots of things are unsettling." Chris answers, slouching heavily. "Speaking of unsettling, you and Beth."
"You're bitching." Emily quips.
Chris shrugs.
"I don't know." Emily admits after a moment, feeling Chris' impressive stare boring into her back. She adjusts her basket as she heads down the aisle, Chris trailing behind her, his steps heavy, boots clunking away and Emily almost comments on it.
"Why are you pissed with her?"
Chris' answer is immediate. "No reason."
Emily can't tell if Chris is stupid or stubborn. She didn't know what happened between the Washington's and Chris but it was big enough that whenever Beth came by, Chris would get quiet and distant. Emily imagines it's because of whose missing from their fallen apart group. It's not her business, not like she cares how Chris decides to waste his time even if she hates watching it.
"Mhm." Emily responds, moving towards the registers. There's a small line forming, various people holding different items and baskets, some with canvases, others carrying spring decorations. Emily wrinkles her nose. A phone dings, the man standing in front of her reaching for his phone. Blank screen and the phone is tucked away.
Another ding.
Emily fishes through her purse, finding her cell near the bottom, Beth's name popping up twice. Chris makes a noise and Emily cuts her eyes at him, notices how glued he is to the game on his phone screen. It looks like Flappy Bird just instead of a bird, it's some anime girl's face.
Sick.
From: Beff
Bullied my neighbor into giving me his wood
From: Beff
No hetero
Emily chuckles to herself, lips twitching into a smile as she moves to reply.
From: Snob
Planning on starting a fire?
Beth responds quickly.
From: Beff
Haaa, no.
It's for you.
Another message pops up, a picture and Emily clicks it open, eyes widening slightly. There are stack of wood panels situated on a glass table that Emily recognizes as Beth's, a bit uneven and crooked but smooth, varying in size and Emily finds herself smiling.
From: Beff
Come and get them?
From: Snob
Or you can bring them to me?????
From: Beff
?????????????????
From: Beff
D: fine.
"Gross." Chris comments mildly, his expression pissy and Emily wants to call him a bitch again but they're next in line, Emily setting her basket on the check out counter as Chris saddles around near the bags.
It's a quick process, Emily a bit unsure as to why the line was so long if the cashier is fast. She shrugs absently, swiping her card, hands already grasping her bags before the receipt can finish printing. Chris takes it, trailing after Emily as he crumples it up.
"I'm going to walk home." Emily informs Chris, earning a slow nod. "Try not to miss me."
Chris quirks an eyebrow at her. "Gross."
"Today's Wednesday anyway." Emily says as if that's a reason to not come over and it's not like Chris really cares either way. He nods anyway, shrugging lazily. "Where are you and Ashley headed?"
"I'm going to stay in tonight."
"Oh?" Emily shoots him a look, studying the simple sad expression he wears and tries not to groan and the only think saving him from a verbal beat down is that Emily is almost in the same situation. "Don't let a fuckboy ruin your life, Chris."
Chris laughs, "Ah. I'm not. Just... rather not think about anything."
"Don't smoke too much weed."
"Yes, ma'am." Chris salutes, heels clicking together and then he's gone, heading down the sidewalk towards his apartment and Emily watches him go until deciding to walk home.
Beth is waiting outside Emily's apartment, texting rapidly on her phone, a pair of thick sunglasses sliding down her nose. Tiny curled hairs poke out of the slouched beanie she wears. There's a large IKEA bag on the ground, filled up with the panels.
Beth yawns loudly.
"Boo."
Beth jumps, clutching a hand over her chest, head snapping in Emily's direction.
"Holy shit." Beth wheezes. "Do you not use elevators?"
"No." Emily scoffs, procuring her keys. "Last time I got stuck with a drunk girl who was apparently in my psych class."
"Okay?" Beth asks, picking up the bag as Emily unlocks the door. "She vomit on you or something?"
"She took a shit in a bucket."
"Oh."
"Mhm." Emily hums, pushing her door open. She hadn't been home in a while but it still smelt the same, stale air and paper mache. Beth is quiet behind her, the click of the door closing seeming to deafen everything around them.
Beth glances around Emily's apartment. She sets her bag on top of the table, quietly evaluating items and paintings, seemingly awestruck and Emily doesn't understand why until she realizes Beth has never been inside her apartment.
"How'd you find my apartment?" Emily asks.
"Sam." Beth answers, slumping down on Emily's couch. She stretches, spine curving upward, shirt riding up and Emily glances away quickly, heading towards her room, supplies in hand. Her bed is still unmade, walls plain and bare and gray and it feels like time has frozen in this place.
Emily sits down at her desk, numbly ripping open pens from their packaging and setting them inside her metallic case. She runs a hand along the wood, overwhelmed with how bad she doesn't want to be here.
"Wait," Beth calls. "You took psych?"
Emily shrugs out of her cardigan, elbows bumping against the back of her chair. "Last spring. I had to fill my core."
Beth whistles.
"Did you drop out?"
"What?"
Emily rolls her eyes, rocking a bit before settling into a stand, moving towards the entranceway of her bedroom. She leans against the frame, watching Beth tug off her beanie, a bundle of loose curls falling out.
"Did you drop out?"
"No. Hannah would kill me." Beth smirks, sinking down in her seat. She brings her legs up, crosses them as she drums lightly along her knees. "I'm taking one class. Maybe two. I don't remember. I just show up."
"How is Hannah?" Emily asks timidly, pausing, cardigan bunched up around her elbows. She isn't sure why she asked. Their last conversation hadn't been the kindest but Hannah sent her a good luck card the day their group graduated.
"She's good." Beth smiles. "She met some guy and they've been hitting it off really well. He's into botany and grand romantic gestures so you know she is just over the moon."
"That's good." Emily says quietly, stares into the wood paneling that lines her door for a bit too long. Everything falls silent, her hands tightening around leather and she sighs.
That was good.
"You changed your major right?" Beth asks suddenly, seeming to sense Emily's change in demeanor. "Why?"
Because her mom told her not to, because her dad said she wasn't worth shit, lucky to have a pretty face, lucky enough to have parents that worked hard and made her work hard.
"I wanted something different." Emily walks into her kitchen, fingers gliding along marble countertops and she plucks open an upper cabinet, fetching a cup. Emily turns on her filter, a low hum coming from it when the tap cuts on.
"I saw your work," Beth tells her. "It's really, really good."
"Thanks." Emily says but she doesn't mean it, hands shaking around glass when she picks it up. She didn't know what she was good at anymore. It felt like most things she did were out of spite and that's the only reason she's ever been good at them. Beth studies her face, shoulders slumping a bit but she smiles, patting an empty spot beside her.
Emily goes, sits down beside Beth and stares at an empty TV screen. She hands over her glass, Beth taking it with a low thanks and Emily breathes.
"But you failed your midterm." Beth sets her glass down, doesn't look at Emily when she says it and Emily blinks, decides not to respond, tongue buried into the roof of her mouth.
"You look like you need a distraction." Beth grins. "You still like bad Korean dramas? Cause I have some recommendations."
Emily tries not to groan.
--
Beth swings by on a Tuesday, eyes a bit brighter than what Emily was expecting because she's spent the past few weeks staring into Beth Washington's constant blanking expression, her red eyes.
"Yo." Beth greets pleasantly, the collar of her blouse smoothed down around a silver feathered necklace. She smells like honeysuckles and jasmine, teeth sparkling white and her hair combed fine and it's longer than it was in high school, brushing past her shoulders.
Emily's eyebrow twitches. "It's almost 10 in the morning."
"You were up anyway." Beth dismisses, stepping past Emily and into Chris' apartment. She doesn't seem to notice Emily's glare or doesn't care, glancing out the patio window to see Chris sitting with AJ, thumbing through that same old notebook.
Emily slams the door closed, arms folded across her chest as she trails after Beth, following her gaze before clicking her tongue, legs moving towards her bedroom. Beth follows, leans against the doorframe with a strange look on her face.
It disappears quickly.
"There's an exhibit in town." Beth announces, moving to plop down on Emily's bed. "I feel like this is the one."
"I've decided to drop out." It's a lie, Emily has no clue what she's going to do in regards to her recent failure, her email blowing up with reminders of deadlines, ways to raise her grade.
Emily wouldn't call it overwhelming and she's spent the past few days when she isn't with Beth outside beside AJ when Chris has gone to work, trying to find hidden meaning in the prickles of a cactus.
"Right." Beth smirks, eyes glittering. "You don't have to bullshit me, Em. We've known each other too long."
Had they? Emily's starting to think she didn't know any of them anymore, has seen too many recent sides to be entirely sure. She's sometimes surprised some of them still talk to each other, like Matt and Mike or Ashley and Jess but maybe graduating helped them grow up.
"Fine." Emily huffs, grumpy and pissed and this isn't how she wanted to spend her Friday, how's she wanted to spend any of her time but Beth has become a steady constant in her life now, like Chris, like how Jess used to be. Emily could count on both hands how many galleries they've been to, how many museums but all she can see is people who turned their grief and pain into something.
People that aren't her.
Beth pointedly turns away while Emily changes, focusing on different decorations around Chris' spare room. Her eyes linger on a picture of Emily and Sam, both smiling, covered in paint and mud and Emily remembers that day clearly.
Emily knows Sam and Beth broke up, doesn't really get why but Beth isn't fishing for sympathy from anyone, maybe just a distraction, maybe an excuse. Beth looks away, eyes downcast, that glossy expression coming back but she doesn't cry, instead she grins at Emily and tells her to hurry up.
"It's busy." Beth says, grumpy when she sees how many people are in the museum, collected around portraits and sculptures and Emily snorts, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"It's Friday."
"Okay? Who takes people on dates to an art museum?"
"We're here." Emily retorts.
Beth smirks, "This is a date?"
"I just mean that they aren't the only ones who decided this is a good place to be on a Friday." Emily clears her throat, Beth's nauseating sneer only growing bigger and bigger and Emily nudges her roughly, earning a soft laugh in response.
"Your elbows are so bony, Em." Beth whines, running a hand over her ribs. She pouts a bit before she grasps Emily's hand tightly, eyes bright with excitement as she pulls Emily towards a nearby exhibit. Emily barely catches the name or the large mock up and she manages not to stumble into Beth when the other comes to a stop.
The gallery is modest in size, a few dwindling patrons inside, humming thoughtfully and peering to close. It's broken into two parts, a small collection of medium sized canvases stretched out before them, Beth's eyes wide with awe and Emily can understand why, her hand still in Beth's.
They're beautiful, no other words coming to mind the longer Emily studies the painting they stand in front of, an old man peering back, eyes deep and black, skin speckled with red like blood and Emily feels as if she could fall in, spend the rest of life floating along reams of textured paint, details fine and white like threads of silk.
Beth doesn't say anything, neither does Emily, walking along the edges of an old society that's been splayed along white walls, canvases of men, powerful, their emotions pursed through heavy eyes. Men with red mouths and red noses, men that have fallen from grace, deformed and Emily still catches herself trying to breathe through the heaviness in her throat.
Beth let's her lead, expression quiet and soft as Emily moves to the next part of the exhibit, an audible gasp filling the air and Emily's chest tightens. Skeletons dressed in shades of rich red, frozen on black backgrounds, an eyeless skull peering back from in between them, clutching at bone with a body made of flesh.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Beth whispers.
Emily agrees, holds her tongue against the overwhelming sense of envy, heart beating fast in her chest and oh, this is what it would be like, if she hadn't stumbled, if she had stayed consistent, if Jess hadn't. Emily shakes her head, it's her own fault, she failed on her own, too distracted, too absorbed and she should've turned her loss into something magnificent.
"We can go." Beth suggests, worry rippling across her features, her hand tight around Emily's and Emily wants to apologize for how transparent she's being but Beth smiles, understanding, sweet, lightly guiding Emily away so Emily goes, glancing back and the last thing she sees before they leave the exhibit is a man staring into the distance, his mouth smudged, eyes deformed and cloudy.
Emily wonders what he's lost.
"I didn't mean to overwhelm you." Beth apologizes once they're outside, combing a hand through her hair, dark brown strands beginning to wave at the roots. There's a crowd of people moving inside the art museum, chattering loudly.
"You didn't." Emily tells her and it feels like she can breathe.
Beth frowns, blinks, lips thinning and Emily almost thinks Beth is going to call her out, holds her breath and waits. Beth glances down at their linked hands, stares as if she can hear the quips of Emily's rapid beating heart through her palm. Emily pulls her hand away quickly but Beth's expression has already changed.
Neither of them say anything.
Beth tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, looking out of place and strange and she smiles nervously at Emily. "Wanna go annoy Chris and get high on the patio?"
Emily doesn't know.
"We don't have to talk about anything." Beth says and it looks like she wouldn't want to anyway.
"Okay."
Chris isn't home so Beth steals one of his hoodies from high school and lounges in it lazily as Emily sits beside her on the tile, both staring at the little sea of city and people stretched out before them. AJ is on the patio chair, whistling against wind and air and Emily drizzles some water from her glass into him.
"You guys are going to over water him." Beth inhales, fingering the blunt rolled between her thumb and index nail. It creases slightly, sloppily made but Emily doesn't really care, takes it from Beth's hand and curls smoke along her tongue when she takes a hit instead of trying to breathe through emptiness.
"Chris doesn't water him." Emily tells her, exhaling smoke. It tastes faintly like mangoes
"Then you're going to kill him."
"Someone has to."
Beth laughs at that, pulling on her hood. She pulls at the strings until it tightens around her head comically, creases of fabric making her face seem small and smushed. Emily laughs without meaning to, suddenly feeling light headed and sweet.
"Am I cute like this?" Beth purses her lips.
"No." Emily says, grinning and Beth gasps, offended and snatches the blunt from Emily's hand, the other girl only falling into another fit of laughter. Beth glares weakly at her, lips twitching into a smile as she takes another hit, watching Emily turn to AJ with a dopey smile.
Emily pours more water.
Beth groans.
"Stop killing him."
"I love him." Emily says softly, watching the water slowly absorb into earth and she presses her index finger to it, mushy and she doesn't want AJ to die but she's trying to make sure he's okay, that he'll be healthy and strong.
Beth touches Emily's arm, light, fingers curling along her skin and Emily turns, nerves tingling and humming along her veins and she catches Beth's slow smile before she feels lips against hers.
Emily stills, eyes fluttering closed, feels Beth's mouth open against hers and she follows suit, inhaling around a heavy cloud, reaching up to grasp Beth's shoulder. Emily feels like she's on a raindrop, colors of the world blending and swirling and it all settles against her body, Beth's mouth back on hers once smoke clears and Emily sighs.
Their kiss is hard, yearning and it feels how loneliness tastes, bitter and hollow but Beth is warm under her palms, settles between Emily's legs like she understands how it feels to be left behind and Beth doesn't talk about Sam anymore but Emily thinks that this kiss has a lot to do with it.
If Emily was thinking, she'd push Beth away, try not to enjoy how good the other girl's tongue feels in her mouth, Beth's hand under her shirt, and she'd say that she's not gay, doesn't like girls or boys or anyone but she'd be lying, she'd be burying hurt into herself instead of another person.
Beth doesn't seem to mind or care, presses Emily to the patio floor, tasting like old coffee and the pistachios they shared on the train, her hands pushing at Emily's bra, fingers gliding over heated skin, dark hair falling into Emily's face, fine, smelling the same way strawberries to at the beginning of the season.
"I can't fuck you." Emily says, whimpering when Beth sucks a bruise into her collarbone, Emily's shirt half way off, bra splayed along her stomach, and Beth's eyes flicker up to meet hers, mouth hot, teeth lightly grazing Emily's skin and she smirks.
"That wasn't my intention." Beth replies, leaning up to kiss Emily again, a hand sliding up Emily's torso, tracing along her stomach, her ribs, up, up and Emily melts against Beth with a sigh, noses brushing and Beth smiles, warm and inviting.
They kiss again, Emily touching Beth's face, her neck, every action met with want, want, want and Emily wishes she could bottle that feeling just to stare into. Beth stiffens over her, lips puffy and red, embarrassment rippling across her features.
"I'm so hungry." Beth whispers.
Emily blinks, shoulders trembling as she laughs and she kisses Beth, Beth who kisses back as if it's so, so easy, one last time before fixing her shirt. "Let me water AJ."
"God, no! You will actually kill him." Beth laughs, taking Emily's hands in hers as she staggers to her feet, legs shaking, cheeks flushed red, Emily being dragged up with her.
"Why is Chris mad at you?" Emily asks suddenly and Beth's smile falls away, melts off like lava through rock. "Oh. Sorry."
"It's okay." Beth hums. "It doesn't really matter."
"Does it?"
Beth looks at the city. "You can ask him but I mean, it's not like I regret doing what I did. You do things to protect people even if it hurts others."
"What happened with Sam?"
"I thought we weren't talking about anything," Beth faces her. "What happened with Jess, huh? Do you even like girls or are you just okay with the fact that I just stuck my tongue down your throat?"
Her phone vibrates in her pocket, a quick save, Emily stiffening at possibilities and maybes and she pulls it out, heart aching at the familiar picture that pops up.
Jess.
Beth notices and sighs, looking to the city before she glances at Emily, smiles, the left corner of her mouth ticking up higher and she fixes her hair, smooths wrinkles from her shirt and wiggles her fingers.
"Let's go somewhere. I'll buy food."
Emily pockets her phone.