Rosalie
“Alright, you’re all set. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I take the bags from her hand and smile at her. “No thanks. We’re good.”
The woman at the register smiles back and calls for the next person in line.
I glance back at Leila, whose hands are filled with shopping bags. She’s waiting for me at the storefront, struggling to find room on her arms for all of the bags she’s holding.
“Jesus, Leila,” I say, laughing when she tries to get her hair unstuck from her lip gloss. Ultimately failing when she can’t reach due to the mass amount of shopping she did.
“Don’t just stand there, help me,” she says, and I quickly make my way to her, picking off hair dark hair that’s practically glued onto her pink lip-gloss.
“You went a little overboard,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “I just got paid. Thought I’d treat myself.” She looks down at my hands, and her eyebrows raise. “You barely got anything. Who are you, and what have you done with Rosalie Whitton?”
I laugh. I have one shopping bag, which definitely isn’t something Leila is used to seeing. I never went shopping with friends. My mother got me everything I needed, and the rest I made myself. But Leila always bared witness to all the new outfits I bought.
Every time I’d come into school wearing one of my new outfits, she’d first ask how much, which would shock her every time I told her the price.
So, of course, when Leila wanted to go shopping, I couldn’t pass it up. Except all I had bought was jeans. I guess if Grayson is going to be taking me on mountain tops and for late-night speed racing, I could at least buy some pants that don’t cost a fortune. I always preferred dresses or skirts. I love feeling the breeze on my legs, not to mention that my legs look good. I might only be 5’5, but I have long legs and like to show them off.
“God, I needed this.” Leila sighs. “I needed some time away from my psychotic roommate.”
“Tiffany, right?” I remember Leila mentioning her roommate on many occasions. Apparently, she was the roommate from hell, and now I was feeling a little more grateful that I had my own apartment. “What did she do this time?” I ask her.
She scoffed. “What didn’t she do?” She grimaced. “She nearly set the dorm on fire.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my sockets. “What?”
“Yep. I walked in on her cutting up and burning her polaroids. I’m guessing she broke up with her boyfriend, and I hope it’s for good because if I have to hear them argue again, I will kill them.”
Maybe I was being presumptuous in wanting to live in a dorm since this sounds like a horror story
“And that’s not even the worst part,” she continued.
“There’s worse?”
“Well, I yelled at her and told her to put it out, so she grabbed the first bottle she could see, which was vodka.”
I gasped. “Oh my god.”
“I nearly died. If I did, I’d bring that hijueputa with me,” Leila says.
I don’t know whether to laugh or be worried for my best friend’s safety. “That’s… insane,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “How has she not gotten kicked out?”
She groaned. “I complained to the housing department, but they said I have to wait until next semester to check If there are available rooms.”
Once again, my money makes me feel guilty. Leila has to deal with a dangerous roommate, and I live alone in a big apartment. “If I had an extra bedroom, I’d let you move in,” I tell her. “Unless you want to sleep on the couch?”
She sighs. “I’m tempted. I’m really tempted,” she says, but then her eyes drift to the one bag in my hand. “Why did you barely get anything?”
I shrug. “I didn’t need anything new, really.”
“But you needed jeans?” she asks, laughing. “I’ve never seen you wear jeans, Rosie.”
“I needed a change.”
“Yeah. About that. Where have you been lately?”
I look up at her, furrowing my brows. “What do you mean?”
“You haven’t been hanging out with us. I’ve seen you maybe once this week, and now you’re buying jeans because you need a change. What’s that about?”
“Where are the girls?” I ask her.
“Madi is at an audition, and Gabi’s at dance class. But stop avoiding the question. What is going on with you?” she asks.
I don’t know how much I should tell Leila about Grayson. I should tell her. She’s my best friend, and it would be fun to have someone to talk to about this. But what if she judges me for doing this? She won’t understand why I need this, why I need Grayson.
“Nothing much,” I tell her.
“Nothing much?” she questions, laughing. “Sounds like something, and you just don’t want to tell me.”
I ignore her comment, and my eyes lock on the store across the street. The woman in the window storefront makes me wonder what I would look like wearing something like that. “Let’s go in there,” I tell her, already crossing the street.
Leila scoffs. “You know I could just get you some for free, right?”
“You get clothes for free?” I ask her. “Then why are you buying the whole damn store?”
“I get some clothes for free, but Bare Lush has been trying to get me to do an underwear shoot, so they’re bribing me with free lingerie,” she says.
“And you don’t want to do it?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Her voice quiets when she answers me, so I don’t push her on the subject.
“Let’s go,” I tell her instead, walking her over to the store. “You can help me with this.”
This is one of the things I can learn from Leila. I would die before asking Grayson about lingerie, but then I remember that I already asked him for sex, so how embarrassing would that really be?
We enter the store, and the amount of choices overwhelms me. There are so many different types of underwear and bras I don’t know where to start.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Leila asks.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, honestly.
“Well, what do you normally wear?”
I laugh. “Not these,” I say. She raises her eyebrow, and I explain. “I wear briefs. I told you I wanted a change.”
She smiles. “Nothing much, huh?”
I feel my cheeks start to blush, and I sigh, picking up a lacy blue bra from the counter. “Will you help me or not?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Come on,” she says. “I know just the thing for you.”
