JENNIE

"I'm so sorry that she pushed you like that," Rosé tells me as I swipe the warm cloth across her busted cheek. The skin is cut and just won't stop bleeding. "No, it's not your fault. I'm sorry you keep getting dragged into this." I sigh and dip the cloth back into her sink.

She had offered to take me back to Jisoo's instead of following our previous plan of seeing a movie, but I didn't want to go back to Jisoo's. I didn't want Lisa to show up there and cause a scene.

She's probably there destroying Marco and Karen's entire house right now.

God, I hope not.

"It's cool. I know how she is, I'm just glad she didn't hurt you. Well, worse than she did." She sighs.

"I'm going to apply pressure to this, so it may hurt," I warn her.

She closes her eyes as I press the cloth to her skin. The cut is deep—it looks like it may scar, even. I hope not; Rosé's face is too perfect to have a scar like this, and I certainly don't want to be the cause of it.

"Done," I say, and she smiles despite the fact that her mouth is swollen as well. Why am I always cleaning up wounds?

"Thank you." She smiles again as I rinse off the bloodstained towel. "I'll send you a bill," I tease.

"Are you sure you're okay, though? You hit the ground pretty hard." "Yeah, I'm a little sore, but I'm fine." The events from tonight took a drastic turn for the worse when Lisa followed me outside. I had a feeling she wasn't too hurt by me leaving her, but I thought she would be more affected than she was. She said she was busy and that's why she hadn't called me. Even though I thought she wouldn't care as much as I did, I

thought she loved me enough to care a little. Instead, she acted as if nothing had even happened, as if we were friends having a casual conversation. That is, until she saw Rosé and lost it. If anything, I thought seeing Taehyung would anger her and she would try to start a fight in front of everyone, but she couldn't have cared less. Which is kind of strange.

Regardless of how brokenhearted I am, I know Lisa wouldn't hurt me purposely, but this is the second time something like this has happened. The first time I was quick to excuse her behavior. I was the one who convinced her to go to her father's for Christmas, and she just couldn't handle it. Tonight was her fault—she shouldn't even have been there.

"Are you hungry?" Rosé asks me as we leave her small bathroom for the living room.

"No, I already ate at the party," I say; my voice is still hoarse from my excessive, embarrassing sobbing on the way to Rosé's apartment.

"Okay, we don't have much anyway, but I could order you something if you want, so just let me know if you change your mind."

"Thank you." Rosé is always so incredibly sweet to me.

"My roommate will be here in a little while, but he won't bother us. He'll probably crash as soon as he gets in."

"I really am sorry that this keeps happening, Rosé."

"Don't apologize. Like I said, I'm just glad I was there for you. Lisa seemed pretty angry when I got there."

"We were already fighting." I roll my eyes and take a seat on the couch, wincing from the soreness. "Go figure."

All of my bruises and cuts from my automobile accident just healed, and now I'm going to have another, from Lisa. The back of my dress is dirty and ruined, and my shoes are scuffed down the sides. Lisa really does ruin everything that she comes in contact with.

"Do you need some clothes to sleep in?" Rosé asks, handing me the old blanket I slept with a few nights ago.

I'm slightly apprehensive about borrowing Rosé's clothes. That's something I share with Lisa, and I've never worn anyone else's clothing.

"I think Nancy has some stuff here . . . in my roommate's room. I know that's probably awkward . . ." She half smiles. "But I'm sure they're better than sleeping in that dress."

Nancy is much thinner than me, and I almost laugh. "I can't fit in her clothes, but thank you for thinking I could."

Rosé seems to be confused by my answer; her cluelessness is adorable. "Well, I have some clothes you can wear," she offers, and I nod before I allow myself to overthink it. I can wear whoever's stuff I want, Lisa doesn't own me—she didn't even care enough to try to explain herself to me.

Rosé disappears into her bedroom and returns moments later with her hands full of clothing. "I grabbed a few different things, I don't know what you like." There's something behind her tone that makes me think she'd really like to get to that stage with me. The one where you know what the other likes. The stage I'm at with Lisa. Was at. Whatever.

I grab a blue T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. "I'm not picky." I give her a thankful smile before I go into the bathroom to change.

To my horror, the plaid thing that I thought was pants is in fact a pair of boxers. Rosé's boxers. Oh God. I unzip my dress and pull the large T-shirt over my head before considering what to do about the boxers.

The shirt is smaller than Lisa's shirts are; it barely hits the top of my thigh and it doesn't smell like Lisa. Of course it doesn't, it's not Lisa's. It smells like laundry soap with the smallest hint of cigarette smoke. The smell is nice somehow, though not as nice as the familiar scent of the girl that I miss.

I pull the boxers up my legs and look down. They aren't too short. In fact, they're sort of baggy, tighter than Lisa's would be, but not too tight. I'll just walk to the couch and cover myself with the blanket as fast as I can.

I'm incredibly embarrassed to be wearing them, but it would be even more embarrassing to make a big deal out of it after everything Rosé has been through tonight because of me. Her poor face holds the proof of Lisa's anger, a big bloody reminder of why Lisa and I would never work. Lisa only cares for herself, and the only reason she lost it when she saw Rosé is her pride. She doesn't want me, but she doesn't want me to be with anyone else either.

I leave my dress folded on the bathroom floor; it's already dirty and ruined anyway. I'll try the dry cleaners, but I'm not sure if it can be saved. I really loved that dress, too, and it cost me a decent amount of money— money that I sorely need once I find my own apartment.

I walk as fast as I can, but when I reach the living room, Rosé is standing next to the television. Her eyes go wide as they rake up and down my body. "I . . . uh, I was putting something . . . I was putting, trying to find a movie . . . to watch. Or something for you to watch, I mean," She stammers, and I sit on the couch and pull the blanket over me.

Her fumbled words and the look in her eyes make her appear younger and more vulnerable than usual.

She laughs nervously. "Sorry, I was trying to say I was turning the TV on so you could watch it."

"Thank you," I say and smile as she takes a seat on the other end of the couch. She rests her elbows on her knees and stares forward.

"If you don't want to keep hanging out with me, I understand," I say to break the silence.

She turns to face me. "What? No, don't think that." Her eyes pour into mine. "Don't worry about me, I can handle it. A couple beatings aren't going to make me stay away from you. The only thing that will is if you tell me to. You want me to, then I will. But until you tell me to go, I'm here."

"I don't. Want you to go, that is. I just don't know what to do about Lisa. I don't want her to hurt you, again," I tell her.

"She's a pretty violent girl. I know what to expect, I guess. Don't worry about me, though. I just hope that after seeing who she really is tonight, you'll distance yourself from her."

Sadness creeps in at the thought, but I say, "I am, I definitely am. She doesn't care anyway, so why should I?"

"You shouldn't. You're too good for her, anyway; you always have been," she assures. I scoot closer to her on the couch, and she lifts my blanket and gets under it, too, before pressing a button to turn on the television. I love the ease between us; she doesn't say things just for the single purpose of pissing me off, and she doesn't hurt my feelings on purpose.

"Are you tired?" I ask her after a bit. "Nah, you?"

"A little."

"Go to sleep, then. I can go to my room."

"No. Actually, you can stay out here until I fall asleep?" My tone is more asking than telling.

She looks at me, relief and happiness in her eyes. "Yeah, sure. I can do that."