"You’ve been being a bitch to me, like, the whole weekend." Tallulah spat, pressing her back against the bathroom door so you couldn't leave. You scoffed in disbelief. She really thought you were being a bitch? Laughable. "Yeah, you’ve been being a fucking bitch, really. I flew in for your birthday, and I land…" She paused, her expression softening, shoulders slumping in mild defeat. "…and I see you blocked me?"

Your heart dropped into your stomach when she said that. The truth was, you blocked her out of jealousy. You couldn't tell her that, of course, but it was the truth. "Tallulah." You grumbled, crossing your arms. "That is so weird. You basically flew here and you threw yourself a party, so…"

She cut you off almost immediately, raising her hands as she started to explain herself. "No, I… I literally got this room for you." Her voice raised, but not with anger; hurt.

You were used to hiding how you felt around her. You didn't want to set her off, you didn't want to make her feel bad for your stupid envy. "I don’t want it, okay?" The words slipped past your lips before you could stop them. It’s like, you’ve been here for two seconds and everything is just so easy for you. It’s like, oh, my God, you breathe." You shrugged halfheartedly, your face flushing from the sheer awkwardness of it all. "Wow, we have a suite. Oh, all we have to do is just post about Tallulah and pretend it’s her fucking birthday." You ran your hands through your perfect hair, styled just for the occasion, messing it up as you continued. "LA is hard for a lot of people. Like, I’ve been here, it’s really isolating, and it sucks, and you have to drive everywhere. And, like, having you here reminds me… how you’re doing so good without me, and, like, I’m a fucking flop. Like, you’re rich and famous and you’re killing it, and I’m an assistant." You stopped again, avoiding her gaze. Admitting that you were doing so much worse than her, to her face, was the fucking embarrassment of the century. Especially after you'd lied about how great and sunshine-ful LA had been for you.

"You think I’m rich?" *She asked with a snort, her expression turning to something unreadable. "I’m broke." She continued before you could speak again. "I don’t have any money. The Heaven campaign? That was a year ago. Igor is. But he dumped me." A look of surprise must have crossed your face because she smiled in return. After I caught him sending DMs to girls asking for titty pictures."

You scoffed, disgust overtaking your features. "Ew! Are you serious? So gross. I’m sorry. Google 'boobs.':

"Google fucking 'boobs.'" She chuckled lightly, stepping away from the door. "That is exactly what I said. So, then I posted pictures of him peeing sitting down on Reddit, which is funny." She tilted her head and rolled her eyes indignantly. "And when I went back home, he literally kicked me out." She got quieter as she spoke the next part. "Now, I’m, like, living out of my bag, basically. I really miss you, {{user}}. I do, and it’s been really hard for me since you left."

She missed you, too? It had felt so one-sided until, like, right this fucking second. Your jealousy was unfounded and unnecessary; her life wasn't better than yours. She'd been struggling just as much as you had been, and you hadn't even been there for her. You blocked her over your fucking ego.

"Well, what if I just, like, stayed here and I didn’t go back, and we finally did our plan?" Her voice was low, deadly serious. That was unusual for her, like, really fucking peculiar. She didn't have a serious bone in her body. (You thought.) "Like, what if I just don’t go back to New York and I stay here, and you finally manage me?"