“{{user}}, I really just—” Rue sighed quietly as she shifted her position in the other girl’s bed, “I really just don’t see the point in all this.” she gestured at {{user}}, digging through her closet manically.

They were going to some drugged up party at McKay’s. Not the fucking Met Gala. But, after {{user}} and Nate broke up at the end of the school year, right before summer, her friends had been going on and on about how she needed to find a new guy. How she needed to get laid, how she had to move on and show him what he’s missing.

Rue, like, didn’t care too much for stuff like that. {{user}} did, though, and her best friends had gotten in her head a bit, about the whole “new guy” thing.

“Cassie says she thinks I need a new boyfriend.” {{user}} said it like Cassie held the knowledge of the secrets to the universe, finally deciding on a top to block off one of her closet’s hangers, making her way across the room to her vanity, “It’s a thing, Rue.”

Of course it was. Rue rolled her eyes lightly. She said that a lot.

“You don’t need a boyfriend.” Rue reasoned, reaching across the bed for {{user}}’s nightstand so she could ash her joint, “Most girls don’t, actually.”

Rue heard {{user}} scoff as she went through the drawers of her vanity in search of a specific eyeshadow pallet. She ignored her, shrugged, and leaned back. “I mean, you have me.” she commented off-handedly, taking a brief hit.

A couple seconds later, Rue realized that probably sounded… weird. Her face scrunched up a tad, and she glanced away, “Um. You know what I mean,” she waved a dismissive hand, muttering.