Naughty Princess

9

The drive home was silent, only the sound of the radio filled the void. Even that was turned down, like any moment Grace might speak.

She didn't; maybe Addison didn't really give her a chance to. Her whole body was turned away from Grace, facing the window; her face was a little wet from the start of the drive, the embarrassment of it all overwhelming her.

Great, she either has to be some rich guy's maid, or live on the street. Being a maid was okay; she could clean, and something told her Jace's house would be clean anyway. It was just how it all happened.

They had exchanged numbers, Jace rattling off in quick succession while Addison typed it into her phone with numb fingers. Her finger had hovered over the save button; she hadn't been sure if she even wanted it on her phone.

Like now, she thought of deleting it. But a few things held her back from doing so. One of those things was the very real prospect of being homeless, with hardly any work experience, and no other friends beside one who she can't even live with. Jace Slate is bad, dying from the flu, or getting shanked, was worse. Addison sighed heavily through her nose, trying to weigh what was the lesser of two evils.

The drive would have been nice if she wasn't trying to ignore her best friend.

It wasn't until they reached Grace's house that Addison spoke. She could tell her friend wanted to go first, but she had to tell it out before her. She knew that once Grace spoke, she would lose all her anger.

"I can't believe you did that, Grace. Worse enough that I'm begging someone to take me in as a roommate, but you told him I'd be his maid? And I'm not sure if he meant just for cleaning either." She took a deep breath in, trying to keep the shake out of her words. She couldn't; they came out all over the place and wet with her tears. She squeezed her eyes shut so she didn't have to look into her friend's sad eyes, didn't have to see the way her words made her uncomfortable. They never fought, and when they did, Addison always apologized first. But this was different; this wasn't a forgotten jacket or a missed call; this was Addison's small amount of dignity and ego.

"I feel so gross, Grace. You're my best friend... why would you do that to me?" That was it; she deflated like a balloon, turning away to hide her face in her hands, she began to cry. Her throat hurt, and her face felt hot and itchy, but that was small compared to how her chest ached.

It was hard to hear Grace over the ringing in her ears, so some of it was muffled. They sat in the car that was their space, the place where they did so many firsts. First smoke, first kiss with different guys, the first time they both learned to drive in. It felt strange now, warped and suffocating, and like maybe they never knew each other at all, maybe they're just friends of circumstance, of luck and not fate.

"I was going to talk to him, I promise you I wasn't going to let him think that. The maid thing and you are completely different things, Addison." Different things? So she didn't lose her mind then; he actually did mean it. But because Grace said all this, Addison should just believe her, right?

Her face was still in her hands, but now she was staring down at her lap between the gaps in her fingers. The fabric kept going in and out of focus; she was thankful Grace had stopped talking because she wasn't sure if she could hear her if she continued. Addison tried to be happy, kind, and never hold grudges.

She always strives to be a good person. But something in her is so angry, and the hot coiling mud rolling in her gut tastes so sweet she almost lets it envelop her. Why not be mad? Why not just crash and let it go? She always holds it in, always says sorry to her friend who never has to feel bad or and always has someone there?

It eats at her, takes a bite little by little at her resolve. Words start to chase up her throat like bile; she turns to her friend and opens her mouth.

In that moment, Grace is 12. They're sitting in the bush behind Addison's house; it's late afternoon, and they're both cold. Addison doesn't understand it yet, but Grace doesn't want to go home, and she's crying because she is sorry. She doesn't know why, but she keeps scratching at the dry dirt and telling Addison she's sorry. Doesn't make her go home because she's scared.

The car is stuffy; why does any of it matter?

Addison always ends up being the bigger person; she accepts it like she accepts Grace's hug. She's all cried out anyway, so why not hold her while Grace cries her tears?

Her friend quietly sobbing into her shoulder, guilt scratching at her eyes, Addison types out a text to Jace. She rereads it to the soundtrack of Grace's repeated apologies before sending it.

'I need somewhere for tonight; I can fulfill the cleaning (only cleaning) part of your maid proposition for a couple of days until I get on my feet. Text me if you want to discuss. -Addison.'