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“Calli,” they both gasp, rushing over and pulling me into a three-woman hug.

“Uh… have I missed something?” I mumble, crushed between the two of them.

We’ve chatted most days while I’ve been away, and they’ve been normal. But this… this is not normal.

“We’ve been worried about you,” Stella confesses.

“W-why?” I ask once they finally release me.

“We didn’t know where you were, and shit’s been tense around here. The boys are keeping schtum about everything no matter how many times we blow them and—”

“Whoa. I missed you both too, but any chance we can hold off on the blow job chat for at least thirty minutes?”

“Fine,” Emmie says with an animated sigh. “But you know how much we love talking about them.”

“Don’t I just,” I mutter, walking over to the fridge. “Do you want a drink? I’ve got… fuck,” I sigh as reality hits me in the face like a wet fish. “Water or…” I turn the carton around, my nose wrinkling as I read the label. “Coconut water.”

“Wow, you really love us, huh?” Stella muttered. “Lucky for you, we predicted this and brought supplies.” She lifts a bag before dumping it on the counter and dragging out the contents. “And we’ve already ordered Chinese. We sweet-talked one of the guys at the gate. He’s going to text me when it arrives so we can sneak out and get it. Your mum will never know you ate sugar.”

“Fuck my mother,” I scoff, reaching for one of the bottles of cider she placed on the counter. The second I’ve found my bottle opener, I knock the top off it and lift it to my lips, swallowing down mouthful after mouthful while my friends’ concerned stares burn into me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emmie asks.

“What? How I was forced out of town for… ‘my own good’,” I say mocking my mum’s voice. “Protected like a useless little girl because I clearly can’t handle the hard shit?”

“Calli, I don’t—” I glare at Stella.

“But you seemed so happy when you were away,” Emmie says, her brows pinched tight in confusion.

“I was by the sea; the sun was shining. Everything always looks better that way. Now, I’m stuck down here and only allowed to go out if I have a fucking chaperone. Which I’m assuming you didn’t have to get here.”

“Uh… no. I’ve got this, though,” Stella says with a wince, pulling a gun from the back of her jeans.

“Of course you do. I’m not allowed one of those either. I swear to God my parents think I’m eight. I mean, just look at this…”

Slamming my almost-empty bottle down on the counter, I storm toward my wardrobe and the other delight I found waiting for me when I unpacked earlier.

“What the hell are they?” Emmie asks, disgust dripping from each word.

“Pretty sure they’re someone’s grandma’s clothes,” Stella quips.

“I know you spent a week in some sleepy seaside place, but was shopping in their charity shops really necessary?”

“Ha ha ha,” I say bitterly. “You’re funny. I did not choose these.”

“They’ve got Cassandra written all over them. They’re basically imitations of the shit we threw out when you moved down here.”

“They’re hideous,” Emmie says, pinching the fabric of one of the dresses between her thumb and forefinger.

“They’re designer,” I say, forcing myself to sound serious.

“Designer shit. Seriously, there is only one place for them.” Emmie snatches both of the dresses and the hangers they’re on and throws them into the corner of the room with a flourish.

“Pretty sure she wants me to wear them for the next two nights of hell.”

“Her birthday party?” Stella confirms.

“Yep, and some bullshit meal tomorrow night.”