Staged (a Clairo fan fiction)

Settling in

"Eve! Over here!" My friend Hanna shouts a little too loudly as I exit the terminal,
"Oh my god, look at you E, how'd you manage to get hotter since last time I saw you? Give me a hug!"
I set down my bags and guitar, allowing myself to wrap my arms around her. "Good to see you too Hanna."

We walk towards her car as we try to catch up on lost time. Well, Hanna does most of the talking. We stop in front of her red expensive looking car. I try to open my door, but it's locked and I can't get her to stop talking long enough to open it.

"So, bestie, I've known you for a good fifteen years of my life, which makes it pretty cool that we're still best friends."
I raise my eyebrow at that. She continues.
"It feels like yesterday that you moved in next door. Remember when we used to climb mrs. Henry's shed? Oh I loved doing that, she would get so pissed off. I miss the suburbs sometimes but LA is so much fun. We party all the time. Have you been to any parties since I left? I went to this really cool party wher-"
"Hanna!" I interrupt
"Yeah?"
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
She pauses, looking confused.
"Oh yeah the car, right haha."

Her apartment is close to the airport and we arrive a few minutes later.
"Welcome to cassa de Hanna!" Hanna shouts as she throws her door open.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. Mirrors line the walls creating a space that looks ten times bigger than it is. Plants cover every corner that can hold the weight of her hand painted clay pots. The kitchen hardware is gorgeous polished red wood, adorned with painted rainbows and animal cartoons, yet the walls are a sensible peach. A slightly elevated second level begins in the corner, accompanied by a black pipe stair handle. The whole apartment is topped off by an impressive central window.

"Wow, Hanna your place is insane! How dare you not send me pictures back when you moved in."
We both tense up as I accidentally bring up her lack of communication. About a year ago, when Hanna moved to LA, she completely stopped talking to me. Out of the blue, she just stopped responding to texts and never answered calls; she completely pulled herself out of my life. In fact, I thought she wanted nothing to do with me, until she texted me a week ago, offering a place to stay after hearing of my travels through a mutual friend.

"Uh, thanks again for letting me stay here. It's a whole lot cheaper than a hotel room."
We laugh awkwardly as I brush aside the questions on the tip of my tongue. Those are for another time

"You must be exhausted from the flight. The guest room is right around the corner. Get to bed! You have a show to play in the morning!"
Ugh, I completely forgot the first show is so early.
"I can't believe it starts tomorrow, I've only been here for an hour," I sigh, "seems a little unfair that the first show is in the morning after they put us on a red-eye."

"Wine all you want," she giggles, "your just wasting precious time you could be asleep."
I roll my eyes, but I listen, going straight to my room, and collapsing on the bed minutes later.