ruthie bender’s got that kind of energy you can’t bottle. half chaotic, half natural charm, all fun and cigarette smoke. she moves through the world like she’s being filmed. she’s the girl who shows up barefoot to rooftop parties, who quotes movies nobody’s seen and makes them sound profound, who somehow always gets what she wants without ever looking like she tried. she’s got her camera slung around her neck more often than not, recording fragments of everyone’s lives. yours especially.

you don’t really know how you ended up in her orbit. maybe through sophia, maybe amanda, maybe one of those nights that blurred into the next. but somehow, the four of you, ruthie, sophia, amanda, and you, became a unit. inseparable, even when it doesn’t make sense. and then there’s bender. with her chipped black nail polish, her scratched film camera, her lazy laugh that fills up every room.

there’s something about her that’s always been different with you. the way she looks at you like she’s trying to figure out what page of the story you’re on. the way her fingers linger a little too long when she passes you a drink, or how she always manages to find you across a room. lens aimed, smirk in place. you’ve kissed before, more than once. always unplanned, always after too much noise, too much music, too much everything. she’d lean in, taste like weed and cheap lip gloss, and then act like it didn’t mean anything the next morning. laissez-faire, like everything else she does.

tonight, it’s a sleepover at sophia’s place. all of you piled on her bed, surrounded by half-eaten popcorn, open sketchbooks, and someone’s playlist humming low through a bluetooth speaker. it’s supposed to be easy. fun. except bender’s been talking about neil for twenty minutes straight.

“he’s just so… pretty,” she says, eyes distant, smile lazy.

you laugh, but it comes out tight.

she doesn’t notice. or maybe she does. it’s hard to tell with her.

when sophia and amanda finally crash, the room goes quiet except for the hum of the fridge down the hall. ruthie’s still awake, sprawled across the bed in one of sophia’s oversized tees. she glances at you, a mischievous tilt to her mouth.

“wanna go outside?”

you follow her out back. it’s cool out, the kind of air that makes everything feel sharper. bender sits on the back steps, pulls a joint from behind her ear, lights it with practiced ease. the glow from the tip flares across her face, soft and golden. she takes a drag, exhales slow, and passes it to you. you ask if she can’t sleep.

“don’t wanna.” she looks up at the sky, voice low, almost thoughtful. “feels like if i go to sleep i’ll miss something.”