𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀,, hobie brown.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈.

It rings once, then twice. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I heard his voice on the other end. I released it. "Hey, puppet." He jokingly says on the other end. "Was about to think you forgot about me." I roll my eyes with a shaky laugh, overwhelmed to hear him. It hasn't been too long since I left, but he and I were always together. Every holiday party my parents threw together, school events and class projects.

I step inside my room, shutting the door behind me as I lean my head back against the door with a little smile dancing on my lips, towel tightened around my body as I pick away at the seams of it. "When will you stop calling me that?" I refer to the embarrassing nickname.

Shawn and I became joined at the hips when he moved to my school my junior year of high school. I struggled in math, he was far too advanced for the math class we both sat in; he told me I messed up, I told him to mind his business. He gave me that stupid, boyish grin and ever since then we were inseparable.

It wasn't love at first sight or anything, but whenever we saw each other in the hallways, he would drop by my locker and say hi. Eventually, those heys turned into full on conversations and those turned into frequent hang outs and video chatting on the weekends whenever he went out of town for his lacrosse tournaments. We became two halves of the same person.

"I'll stop calling you that when you can erase that memory from the brain." I hear him stand from his desk before his mattress takes his weight on the bed, the silence is almost comforting. "I miss you." He mumbles softly, his tone sad for the first time since I ever knew him. He masks his emotions well, I only ever saw him cry once when his little sister was born.

I can't help, I laugh, and he joins in, too. "I miss you, too," I say. "I just wanted to hear your voice, my roommates are taking me out to explore the city today before I start my internship tomorrow." I push myself off the wall to head over to my suitcase, pulling out cargo shorts, a red t-shirt and a few off-brand jewelry for the day. "They want to show me the real New York way."

"I am sure you will survive."

My throat stings.

"Barely," I hear his older sister bang on his wall and we both let out a little laugh. "Alright, alright. I will let you sleep." We both say goodbye, our 'I love yous' and then the phone call ends.

As soon as I hang up, I check the time, then I check it one more time. I tell myself if I can make it through the day they have planned, everything else will be fine.

Out in the kitchen, Vanity has her body sprawled out across the couch with her arms lazily hanging off the edge with a remote in her hand. Eliana is flipping pancakes. Monique is at the breakfast table, a cup of coffee in one hand and her laptop in front of her as she taps away an email.

The scene reminds me of familiarity, hitting me out of nowhere. I imagine I am back at home, my mom sitting at the dinner table with a plate of eggs to her left and her laptop to her right. At this moment, I don't see three people who have high paying jobs, I see normal, teenage girls.

Monique lifts a bony hand, indicating the empty seat. "Good morning' sunshine! I made some pancakes, don't mind the smell of burnt, Vanity likes them a bit... burnt."

I take a seat opposite and watch as Eliana walks around the room like she is at work, the way she maneuvers holding two plates in either hand is impressive up close. It's seven in the morning on a warm Spring day, but she doesn't have a hair out of place. Her dark locs are twisted into a french braid, falling down her back and her mint green dress is the perfect shade for her slight tan skin. Even at home, in the company of just three other girls trying to make the most of our lives, she comes off as perfect.