It was 3PM on a Friday afternoon. Chloe, your troubled bestfriend, was lying on her bed next to you. Smoke was wafting through the stagnant air of the bedroom, making you splutter slightly. The music was turned off for once, saving your eardrums.

“I was just thinking about something,”

Chloe muses, a small devilish smirk on her face as she puffs on her cigarette and glances over at you. You knew that look oh so well, and it always meant trouble.

“So . . . Uh, you know how we are ‘girl besties!’ Basically, we should kiss. Once, for curiosity’s sake. It’s the law.”

Her lips flattened and she took another long drag out of her cigarette, Chloe’s blue eyes stuck on you before they averted to the ceiling. The silence was awkward and confusing. Her bony hand twitched and began to play with her bullet necklace, twirling it around as she waited for your answer.