JENNIE

I wait outside of Rosé's apartment, hoping she won't be too much longer. I really need to talk to her, and she said she was on her way home from work. I stopped to grab a coffee on my way to kill some time. After waiting a few minutes, she pulls up, her truck blaring something amazingly loud. When she climbs out of it, she looks so good dressed in black jeans and a red T- shirt with cutoff sleeves that I'm momentarily distracted from my purpose.

"Jennie!" she says with a big smile and invites me inside. After getting me another coffee and herself a soda, we go into the living room.

"Rosé, I have something to tell you, I think. But I want to tell you something else first," I say.

She puts her hands behind her head and leans against the back of the couch. "Is it about the party?"

"You went?" I ask, putting my news on hold. I sit down on the chair across from the couch.

"Yeah, for a while, but once those strippers showed up, I left." Rosé rubs the back of her neck. My breath is lost.

"Strippers?" I croak, sitting my cup of coffee on the table before I drop the hot liquid onto my lap.

"Yeah, everyone was so wasted, and on top of that they had strippers. That's not my thing, so I got out of there." She shrugs.

I was baking Lisa a cake and planning to spend her birthday with her while she was getting wasted with strippers?

"Did anything else happen at the party?" I ask, changing the subject again. I can't get the strippers out of my head. How could Lisa stand me up for that?

"Not really, it was just the typical party. Have you talked to Lisa?" she asks, her eyes focused on her can of soda as her finger pushes the tab back and forth.

"No, I . . ." I don't want to admit that she stood me up. "What were you going to say?" Rosé questions.

"Shw said she was going to come over but she didn't show." "That's low." She shakes her head.

"I know, and you know what the worst part is? That we had a really good time on our date and I thought she was really going to start putting me first." Rosé's eyes are full of sympathy when I look at her.

"Then she chose a party over going to see you," she adds. "Yeah . . ." I really don't know what else to say.

"I think that really shows what type of person she is and that she isn't going to change. You know?" Is she right?

"I know. I just really wish she'd talked to me about it or told me she just didn't want to come over instead of leaving me sitting there for hours waiting on her." My fingers play with the edges of the table, picking at the peeling wood.

"I don't think you should talk to her about it; if she thought you were worth her time, she would have showed and not left you waiting."

"I know you're right, but this is the main problem in our relationship. We don't talk about things, we both jump to conclusions that lead to yelling and one of us leaving," I say. I know Rosé is only trying to help, but I really want Lisa to explain to me, to my face, why hanging out with strippers was more important than me.

"I thought you didn't have a relationship anymore?"

"We do . . . well, we don't, but . . . I don't even know how to explain it." I'm mentally exhausted and Rosé's presence sometimes confuses me even more.

"It's your choice, I just wish you wouldn't waste any more time on her." She sighs and gets up from the couch.

"I know," I whisper and check my phone for a message from Lisa.

There isn't one.

"Are you hungry?" Rosé asks me from the kitchen, and I hear her empty can hit the trash.