DAISY

I walk into the house that seems vague in my vision, feeling weak in the knees. All I need is somewhere quiet and empty so I can let the burning tears, which are paining me so badly for a break through.

But nothing goes exactly as needed, especially when you don't pay your rent.

"CONGRATULATIONS!" Riley exclaims from the living area.

I freeze in my position and make no reaction to the sudden welcome-home surprise from my best friend.

It's not that I'm ungrateful or anything. The thing is, I feel wrecked coming home to this. It's like a slap in the face after what I just did hours ago.

How can I be this horrible?

I can't speak, I can't move; I just stay here, nailed to the marble floor, the veins connected to my eyes stinging from excruciating tears.

I fucking cheated on her and enjoyed every second of it. I was kissing her boyfriend hours ago, yet here she is, with ornaments around the house, excited about my new job.

I am a bad person.

"Are you okay?" It takes me a few seconds to realize she's standing right next to me, her skeptical eyes examining my unresponsive state, and a few more seconds to muster up a quick response that I hope doesn't seem suspicious. I mean, it's obvious I smell like an orgasm, but I shouldn't sound like it. I need a shower.

"Oh my God, Riley?"

"Yes, it's me, not some ghost, so don't go getting all pale. I told you exactly how much you'd get somewhere better than that stinking place. But West Bay? Do you have any idea how many celebrities go in and out of that restaurant every day?" She grins, swaying me back and forth with both hands on my shoulders.

"Uh... I have no idea." I stutter.

"Well, there it is! I'm going to be your first customer." She promises, pulling me into her neck—or is it a hug? I'm too unresponsive to comprehend my reality, but I show gratitude and mutter a weak, "Thank you," in my best friend's arms.

"Thank me with a hug." She replies the reminder, and that's when I realize my hands are slackly swinging by my side.

It takes everything in me to hug the kindest-hearted human I've ever met. Nonetheless, I am stabbing her in the back.

"Can we eat the cake now?" She jerks her head toward the small cake garnished with whipped cream and some red berries.

Somehow, it touches my heart and lessens a bit of the hurt I'm feeling inside.

"Definitely," I agree.

I'm sure cake is all I need right now.

Riley walks back to the table and serves us both a slice.
"You made it?" I ask as she hands me a dish with a slice of cake.

"No, you know I'm good with meals, but with snacks? That's your thing." She shakes her head and shoves a forkful of creamy cake in her mouth at the same time as me.

"This is so tasty," I comment, sinking into the soft sofa.

I swear, this is exactly what I need. Riley is just a lifesaver.

"It's from Uptown Abundant Cake Supply Shop. They have fountains of cake for anyone in need," she explains and joins me on the sofa.

Together, we exhale heavily in unison and enjoy our cake with soft, satisfied moans.

I giggle around a mouthful of cake before enunciating, "Riley, are you sure you're not living our childhood dream right now?"

She laughs but promises, "I'm serious. We'll go together someday if you're doubtful."

"I'm up for that." I nod along with her.

We watch some Korean romantic show on Netflix and waste a whole package of tissue paper crying during the third episode. It's like all my problems have temporarily vanished; I wish I could be such a carefree person all the time.

There's an absence of worry when I find repose. It was just me and my friend enjoying some cake and a rom-com that evening, but then my mouth goes and asks something it shouldn't.

"Is KC around?" Even the articulation of his name makes me feel all alarmed.

"No, he left with his dad," Riley answers, her head on my shoulder with both legs lazily stretched on the coffee table.

"Oh."

"What?" She sits up and gulps down a quarter of a bottle of water.

"Nothing, I just thought I could ask you something," I say cautiously.

Something inside me says to give up this conversation, but my curiosity is too strong to subdue.

"What is it?" She focuses her attention on me, her eyes soft as she watches me struggle to vocalize the words.

"I know I shouldn't, but I'm curious—how did you get my first mail?" I ask her.

For years, I've wanted to raise the question, but I've always held back when I intended to. I guess I was scared it would upset her.

But after Kay's reaction when I told him I wrote to him, I just feel obligated to know the truth. Perhaps he deserves the truth as well.

Riley seems a little astounded and uneasy with my unexpected question. She breathes deeply before speaking.

"Oh, that! I knew you'd ask someday."

"I just—"

"It's okay." She interrupts. "It's high time we stay true to one another, don't you think?" Her lips pull into a small smile as she composes herself on the sofa.

"Hmm," I murmur nervously, fearing her response.

I feel embarrassed for bringing up the conversation. I don't mean to put her in an uncomfortable state; I just want to know how we got here. If she hadn't written back, I wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't have gotten Kay back in my life, even though right now, I'm not so sure having him is what I need. That's why I need this job so badly—I should be able to move out of Center Yorker next semester.