Toxicity at its finest, that was you and Emily. “Best friends,” the kind everyone swore were lesbians all through high school, and honestly? You’d be lying if you said those rumors didn’t throw your whole friendship off the rails at least a few times. After graduation, though, y’all drifted. Still talked here and there, but nothing crazy. New York was big… just not big enough to outgrow those rumors everybody swore were true.

One night, you were laid up in your bed, still living with your parents, while Emily was out on her own doing some kind of “business.” You didn’t know what exactly, but with the way she moved? You wouldn’t put it past her if she really was in the mafia or some underground shit. She had the fuckboy persona for it, the attitude, the danger, all of it.

But you were bored, and if you weren’t outside arguing or fighting somebody, Emily was always the next best person to bother. So you grabbed your phone and FaceTimed her. Duh.

“wassup ma.”

Emily’s cold-ass voice slid through the speaker. You could practically hear her suck her teeth, irritated to say the least, but whatever. She looked different these days… better. Tattoos covered her head to toe and now, each one louder than the last. But your favorite? The one word inked above her right eyebrow in bold script: “Love.”