We were drinking champagne on Ray’s balcony, the leftovers of a Chinese takeaway next to us and the stars hovering over us in the sky. We were drunk again. It felt like I’d been permanently drunk the whole time I was with Ray. Her presence was intoxicating, in the sense that she made me feel happy and wild and dizzy all at once. And I knew I didn’t want to go home that night. I knew I’d much rather spend the night with her than with Jamie.

 I suddenly felt Ray’s hands in my hair. Her fingers were gently combing through it, ridding it of knots.

 “Don’t,” I said, closing my eyes.

 “Why not? Don’t you like it?”

 “I do. But it makes me feel sleepy.”

 “So sleep.”

 “I don’t want to. Not yet,” I said. Ray smiled. A sort of sleepy side. Lopsided and sweet. I think she wanted to keep that moment, then. The same way that I did. It felt so easy. Like we’d known each other all our lives. She pulled my head back on to her lap and resumed stroking my hair gently. I let her.

 “Tough, then. I can’t stop. I love playing with people’s hair,” she said, twirling a strand around her finger.

 I smile “Sometimes I forget that you’re a moody rock and roll star. Sometimes you just seem like a ball of fluff and snuggles.”

 It was meant to be a joke, but I think I struck a place inside Ray. She tried for a smile, but didn’t quite succeed. I watched her carefully.

 “Are you OK?” I asked.

 “Yes,” Ray said sharply. She pulled her hands away from my hair sharply, her fingers ripping through the tips of my hair. I sat up, frowning at her. Her head was lowered and she was staring at her hands. “No,” she admitted eventually “I’m not OK.”

 I hated the change in mood. It was like our champagne had gone flat all of a sudden. The party was over. I’d said the wrong thing, clearly. “What is it?” I asked her. Her eyes met mine fleetingly, then darted away again.

 “I…I just…” she said, but she couldn’t seem to find the words to continue. Instead, she stood up. She held her hand out to me, and I took it silently. I knew that if words were evading her, she’d have to show me something instead.

 She led me to the library, our hands grasped so tightly it hurt.. Ray didn’t even let go as she began searching through her notebooks, for the one she showed me the first day we met. We sat together on the couch, legs tucked under us and the books spread across both our laps. Ray sifted absent mindedly through the pages for a while, until she came to the photograph of her and her father. She looked almost wounded as she stroked the sheen of the picture. She left a thumb mark on the photo, and she wiped it away furiously with her sleeve.

 “You never know what you have until you lose it,” Ray said. She was talking to herself. “I was always looking for something more. I always wanted what I have now, nothing I had was ever enough. And now I wish I could go back to that day. Give myself a good shake and say, “You know what, Rachel? You don’t know how lucky you are. You’re so fucking lucky.” And now I want to be there. In that picture. When everything was right. Because I sacrificed that to be Ray Summers. And it’s not worth it. When I look at myself now, I don’t even register…I don’t even register that it’s me. It’s a pantomime act. I’m a joke.”

 “You are not a jo-”

 “Yes I am, Freya!” Ray snapped. She was crying now. But she wasn’t holding the tears back, like she normally might “I keep pretending and pretending. Getting into character so much, I’m becoming Ray. I don’t want to be her anymore. I want to be me. But I can’t go back, either. See this is the worst part. I’m too selfish to let go.”

 “It’s not selfish to dream,” I told her “It’s not selfish at all. But think about it. Look at me. Rachel…look at me. Please.”

 Ray cringed at the sound of her name, like it was painful to hear. She turned her back to me. I sighed, leaning in to her and wrapping her in my arms. Like folding a child in a blanket after they have a nightmare. She was rigid beneath my touch. I rested my chin on her shoulder.

 “Everyone lives a lie, Ray,” I told her quietly “To some extent. I’ve spent this week trying to convince myself that everything is fine, when my home life is falling to pieces. I’ve been attempting to tell myself for my whole life that I’m comfortable in my own skin. There is not one person on Earth without insecurities and worries. There is not one person who has never told a lie, or lived one, or become one. And you can’t go back now, even if you wanted to.  But you can patch things up for the future. Make Ray part-time. Be yourself when you can. And I think that’s what you’ve been doing this week…isn’t it? With me?”

 Ray was silent, but after a long time, she nodded “Yes.”

 “So keep it up. Don’t hold anything back from me, and I promise, you’ll feel better. What do you want right now? What do you want to do?”

  Ray sniffed, turning her head towards me “I want to have friends. I want to be loved. I want for everything to be perfect,” she said childishly. Then, seemingly, a flicker of confusion crossed her face. Her hand slowly, shakily extended towards my face and her thumb brushed my cheek lightly. I was frozen. The intimate gesture made me want to shiver, but I fought off the urge. I didn’t want to scare her off. I didn’t want her to stop.

 Ray’s breathing was ragged. Her fingers delicately trailed down my face, coming to rest underneath my chin. Her skin was hard, calloused. Her hand snaked to the back of my neck, resting there and subtly pulling me closer. I could feel my heartbeat slamming against my chest. Her lips, those blackberry lips hovered over mine. I’d been avoiding her eyes, but they locked then, sending a shock through my system. What am I doing? I asked myself She’s too close. Think of Jamie…

 But I didn’t want to think of Jamie.

 And yet, he chose that moment to reappear in my life.

 The phone in my pocket buzzed loudly. It made Ray jump. She moved away from me, wiping at her teary eyes. I shakily took the phone out of my pocket, seeing the picture of Jamie and I sharing a milkshake taking up the screen. I accepted the call, and was met with silence.

 “Say something,” I said to the quiet at the other end of the line. I heard a quiet sniff.

 “I don’t know what to say,” Jamie replied “Just…could you…could you come home? And we’ll talk?”

 “Home,” I repeated. The word didn’t seem to fit to Jamie’s house anymore. I caught Ray looking at me, and knew I had to choose. I could go to Jamie and leave her alone. Or I could stay.

 I swallowed. Ray’s eyes were almost pleading. They said don’t leave me. But it was my only chance to get Jamie back.

 “I…I’m on my way,” I said.

 “Thank God,” Jamie said, breathing out heavily “I…I love you.”

 I didn’t reply, but the damage had already been done. Ray’s eyes broke away from mine, and, slowly, she turned away from me.

***

 I sat opposite Jamie at the kitchen table. There was a plate of spaghetti in front of me, untouched. He’d tried, to say the least. He’d never been able to cook more than beans on toast. It was his unsaid apology, sitting cold in front of us. He looked different since I’d last seen him. The anger in him had drained away completely, and it was replaced by tired eyes and a rough, unshaven face. His hands were dug in his dark hair and his head was bowed. He’d been sat like that for some time. I realised somewhere along the line that nothing was going to be solved unless I spoke up myself.

 “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” I asked, a little more sharply than I’d intended. Jamie jolted up, his eyes red.

 “I’m sorry,” he said. There was a long silence, before Jamie seemed to click that I wanted him to acknowledge what he’d done. He swallowed “I’m sorry…for trying to restrict you. I’m sorry for holding you back from making friends. You…you don’t have to stay with me all the time. That was selfish of me, and I’m sorry. I just…I love you so much, and I’ve smothered you because of it.”

 I nodded “OK,” I said quietly “OK. I’m sorry too. I said some things that were out of-”

 “No. You said what I needed to hear,” Jamie insisted. He tried for a smile, but it was awkward. He  stood and came towards me. I stood too and attempted to hug him, but he went for a kiss, and our faces bumped clumsily. Jamie’s hands were soft as he moved to cup my face tentatively.

 “It’s late,” he said “Shall…shall we?”

 I knew what he was asking. I let him lead me to bedroom. We both undressed, standing uncomfortably by the bed, like virgins their first time. The sheets were cold as we crawled beneath them and Jamie moved on top of me.  His breath was hot on my face as I lay still beneath him. He didn’t appear to notice my unresponsiveness, and it didn’t last long. Jamie finished quickly and moved to his side of the bed.

 “I’m glad to have you back,” he whispered as he turned out the light.

 Everything was wrong.

 I don’t know what I’d expected. I think maybe I thought the reconciliation would come to something more than an exchange of a few words and awkward sex. I expected something a little more loving. But that was all I got. I lay awake for a long time, wishing I was somewhere else. I fell asleep thinking of red headbands and blackberry lipstick and knew nothing was OK. Nothing at all.

***

 I felt a little better by morning. Especially when I woke up and Jamie wasn’t there and I had a text from Ray. I still didn’t know what she had planned for the day. She sent me an ambiguous text telling me how to find her in Liverpool.

 I’ll meet you where it all began,

 Pennies in my pocket, guitar in hand.

 It didn’t take me long to figure out what she meant, and I had an idea of what we might be doing. I made my way to Starbucks opposite the bookstore and sat outside, notebook at hand. And then I waited. I waited a long time. Until I saw the girl. She wore a red headscarf and purple lipstick. Dark purple, like blackberry juice.

She carried a guitar case and a hand painted sign. She saw me and smiled sadly. Waved. Adjusted the red head scarf over her wig and picked up her guitar. And when Rachel Sumner began to play, I knew she’d finally found her home again. Outside the bookstore, being herself, where no one knew her but a young reporter who was slowly, but surely, falling in love with the girl with the purple lipstick.