If We Found Heaven ✓

eight ✩

It wasn't so much the drive that had tired Cass out, or the extremely rowdy crowd at the concert after it, but the dragging, sinking feeling in her chest that seemed forever to tug on her heartstrings. Perhaps she ought to quit her Marlboros. Cass shook the weariness from her bones with a shudder, pulling the cardigan she had snatched from Sullivan's closet tighter around her body.

They were currently walking through pitch-dark LA, clad in short blue dresses that let the midnight chill curl its fingers around their bare legs. Cass took a moment to appreciate Sullivan's outfit. She had stashed the two dresses in the trunk of the Dodge without a second thought, planning for them to go to a nice restaurant after the concert. What she hadn't bargained for, however, was how good Sullivan would look, and all the sinful things it made Cass want to do. Cass wasn't usually in the habit of bending her will to things like sin, but she made an exception when it came to her best friend.

Sullivan was currently humming some inane tune to herself. Cass used to find the constant music that seemed to emanate from Sullivan quite annoying. Now, though, she thought it endearing. "How about here?" Sullivan asked, indicating an open cafe.

Cass looked the institution over skeptically. "We'd probably get robbed."

Sullivan laughed. "Alright."

They kept going. Cass's eyes darted, more than once, over the places where the fabric clung to Sullivan's skin - the indent of her waist, the usually-hidden curve of her hips. Cass herself was tall and slim, graceful, sloping lines and less flair than her ginger best friend. Even in the blackness, Sullivan's hair looked like a burning fire. It was naturally red, a striking color that resembled the stripes on the American flag. Her eyes were a vivid blue, ringed with yellow. They crinkled adorably when she smiled. If Cass had possessed any artistic talent at all, she could've drawn those eyes from memory.

"Here?" Sullivan suggested, pointing at a lit up restaurant at the end of the street.

Cass studied it for a moment, then nodded. "That looks good."

"I hope you brought money," Sullivan said, "'cause I didn't."

Cass laughed. "I did, don't worry."

"Good," Sullivan replied, letting out a relieved breath. "I wouldn't want to be arrested for not paying the probably-very-expensive bill." Sullivan indicated the decorations as they stepped inside. The interior of the restaurant was indeed extremely fancy. Good thing Cass had borrowed some money from Mrs. Graham that morning.

Jazzy music drifted through the room, dancing its way across gilded, golden moldings and over buckets of ice filled with champagne bottles. As they sat down at an empty table, opening giant, cream-colored menus, Sullivan flashed Cass a smile. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Cass asked, glancing at everything but the girl across from her.

In the periphery of her vision, she saw Sullivan's pink lips curl in a small smile. "For today."

Cass waved her off. "It was nothing. We should do it again sometime." Cass's eyes found Sullivan's face again, flicking over the flush that seemed permanently etched into her cheeks.

"Yeah, definitely," Sullivan said. She sounded absent-minded, as though her thoughts were far away from the swank LA restaurant that they were currently sitting in.

"The concert was good," Cass commented.

"Really good," Sullivan agreed. "I wonder how Art and Curls's day went."

Cass laughed. "I doubt Reid enjoyed the run very much."

"He's sort of an odd kid, you know?"

Cass tilted her head slightly, thinking. "No more odd than the rest of us," she replied finally.