Things Are Different Here

one

"She dumped me in the middle of Olive Garden, Abs. Of all frickin' places."

"It's not like you guys haven't gotten back together before, Stace. This is what, breakup number three?" My best friend's voice floated across the room from my phone on my bed. I stepped out of my skirt, letting pleather and black sequins pool at my feet, and pulled a night shirt out from the drawer directly in front of me. I slid it on over my head and plopped down on my bed. My dirty laundry could wait another night, like my dry shampoo-filled hair. "Plus, didn't you dump her in the middle of a club, what, last month?"

"I didn't dump her, we just had an argument." I clarified.

I could hear my best friend, Abby Reynolds, whispering to someone with her. I smiled, knowing the newlyweds weren't far from each other while on their very delayed honeymoon.

"Hi, Tess."

"Hey, Stace. Do I even want to ask how the date went?" Tessa Oliver, Abby's wife, asked. They were in SoCal, somewhere in Malibu, enjoying the sunshine together while listening to my relationship woes.

"God, I seriously don't get women." I groaned in frustration. "Carrie literally told me tonight, after six months of hooking up and meeting each others' friends and shit, that she wasn't looking for anything serious." I snorted, thinking about how I thought she was going to finally ask me to be her girlfriend earlier in the evening. I'd dressed up for the occasion—a little too much for Olive Garden, but it was going to be a memorable night—and I was ready to become the picturesque couple. "It would have been nice to know we weren't on the same page."

"Stacy, she breaks up with you every other week. You've never been on the same page about anything other than what's going on in bed." Abby laughed. I rolled my eyes.

"She's broken up with me one time before, and it was because she just needed some space for a minute." I corrected her, but shook my head. Why was I still defending her? "This is it, guys. I'm blocking her." I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Plus, I've got that callback for Louise this week. I can't deal with her calling me in two days saying she's sorry." I sighed and reached for my phone, stretching my arms above my head. I checked the time, seeing it was half past nine.

"God, that's right. Break a leg!" Tessa said. "Just not your own." She chuckled.

"You're going to crush it, Stace. I just know it." Abby said. "And when you do, we'll finally be in the same time zone again for a while."

"I cannot wait." I sighed. "Okay, I'm going to love you and leave you. I've got to crash if I want to get a decent sleep for work tomorrow." I told them, yawning as I said so. I didn't have to be at work until ten in the morning, as Melissa had an appointment with her divorce attorney, but I couldn't stand to hear my best friend be so cheery any longer. Spiteful, I know. I loved her more than anything, but she'd been eternally happy since before she and Tessa got married, and even more so now that they'd been newlyweds for the past five months.

"Love you!" Both girls said into the phone.

I moved to New York four years ago, when I decided to finally attend fashion school. If there was one thing I missed about the west coast, it was having my best friend so close to me. I'd flown home for her wedding in October, which in retrospect was only a handful of months ago, and was still struggling to grasp the lack of nostalgia from the city. While I loved the never-ending bustle of the sleepless city, something about the home of Starbucks Coffee and the Twilight franchise really called me home.

I crawled up to my blockade of pillows, and pulled the comforter from underneath me. I couldn't be bothered to get the top sheet on me, as it was more than likely somewhere at my feet, anyway. Once tucked in, I scoured through the notifications I'd missed while out at dinner, and scrolled down my inbox. I was an editor's assistant for an indie fashion magazine, and my boss—Melissa, as I only called her to be polite instead of Wicked Bitch of the East like everyone else—had texted me twice about making sure I was ready for our thrift store advice column's deadline on Friday.